Oswald Van Helsing I: Baptism of Blood
by SessKagome and Shade Shaw
Summary: Co-written with ArmoredAvenger. Based on the popular character from "The Count Mickey Dragul", by Twisted-Wind: The Van Helsing family tree has been burned to the roots, condemning the illustrious family of vampire hunters to the oblivion... Years later, a small black rabbit will make the legend rise from the ashes: Oswald Van Helsing. Rated T/M for violence.
1. Prologue: End of the Path

**Shade**: Hello everyone, this is a new project, based on the popular character from "The Count Mickey Dragul" webcomic by Twisted-Wind. [**Link here:** twisted-wind/gallery/28917409/the-Count-Mickey-Dragul]

(**Preliminary clarification**: The same story is published in the Disney + Misc Cartoons Crossover section, so no, it's _NOT_ plagiarism)

**Warnings**: Rated T to M in some scenes. Blood/Violence/Gore. Future sexual references. Furry/YIFF.

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**Van Helsing I: Baptism of Blood**

**Created by Shade Shaw Reilly and ArmoredAvenger. **

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_"The voice of blood can be heard in silence."_

**José Narosky**

**I**

_The End of the Hunter's Path_

The world is composed of two forces, so disparate and antagonistic to each other, but chained forever and condemned to always pull between each other, like children playing to pull a thick rope, to see who is the one who will win at the end. The forces of good and light were constantly fighting against the forces of evil and darkness, without rest, without ever giving up or giving truce, in various ways. On the one hand, there were those who always fought through faith and the strength of their spirit, driven by the desire to help others in a honest way... And then there were those who always fight face to face against them, in a fierce way and with infinite risk of never returning, and even with the dice thrown at the luck of an uncertain result, they kept doing it, again and again. Either to protect their loved ones, friends and neighbors or either for money and recognition. These people were known as _slayers_.

Whether it's beasts, monsters, ghosts, vampires... It _doesn't_ matter what kind of creature is.

The existence of slayers goes back a millennia, from the moment when humanity learned in a very bad way that out there were beings that could easily make their lives miserable if they wanted. They knew then that they had to defend themselves against them, whatever it was. The struggle for food and shelter was splattered as well by the fight against the beings of darkness, first by using torches and then with stones, spears, arrows and all kinds of weapons. Throughout history, the slayers were evolving, improving their weapons and their strategies, because they knew that, along with the civilizations that arose and changed by time of time, new dark beings were appearing and with them, those who were already there and had learned new tricks. Thus, they were developed, flourishing, expanding more and more, refining especially during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, going through the beginning of the Industrial Revolution and beyond.

Just as illustrious and famous families of kings, popes and bankers appeared for the history books, slayers's families began to be known from the coldest points of northern Europe to the furthest corners of America. Many of these families gained much prestige due to the great feats of their members, but others also drank the bitter brew of unpopularity and even dislike for the brutal effectiveness of their hunts and the very _nature_ of their work in the eyes of the people that judged them and begged them for protection at the same time... And one of those families that had to go through all that was the well-known Van Helsing family.

This is the story of one of its most legendary members, both praised and despised. That he achieved a lot in all his long, illustrious and at the same time so uneven career.

And it began, like many other legends told by so many troubadours and storytellers who travel the roads, in the humblest way possible, in the midst of the adversities placed by the gods and fate.

**_..._**

**_Enkhuizen, The Netherlands, October 12, 1874._**

The cooing of the female black rabbit was softly heard in the small room painted in blue. Her arms surrounded the five-year-old little black rabbit that she had been carrying for a few hours to force him closer to her chest and he happily obeyed, for the sound of her voice complemented very well with the rhythmic pumping of her heart. He had closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep at any moment.

"Rueben," he heard her say in a soft voice, perhaps believing he had actually fallen asleep. He smiled when he felt a broad hand with long fingers stroking the short fur of his head and his long ears. "Try not to wake him up, okay? He has been very restless since morning."

"Hehe, that was inherited from you, sure. Who knows what other things he will get when he grows up," his father replied with a hint of laughter in his voice, seconded by the laughter of his wife. He then slipped out a piece of paper. "This was just put on the porch, they want us to move there as soon as possible."

"What a barbarity, just like that?"

"Apparently, but this has a stamp of a well-known Count in southern Europe, so it sounds to me like something real. Also, look at what they are offering us as a reward... 10,000 gold coins."

"That much? That sounds like maybe an army of giants or, even more, an extremely strong vampire lord," she murmured in a worried tone, squeezing her precious baby more against herself. "Honey, I don't know, I... I..."

At that time, he had half-opened one eye, watching the big black rabbit with a couple of scars on his face and scratches on his long ears approaching the female rabbit, gently taking one of her paws between his own: "I know what you´re trying to say, Susanna, I know." he noticed his eyes on him, looking at him with a mixture of tenderness and pride. "I also have trouble leaving him when we have to go, but look at it this way: With that reward, we can leave the job for several years, dedicating ourselves completely to him and helping him to develop his potential".

"Dear," he heard a dry snap from his mother. "Do you really think he would become a...?"

"I wasn't _necessarily_ referring to _that_, my love. If Oswald wants to become a slayer, it will be decided from his heart." He stroked his little head again, with affection. "Hehe, this little rascal is lucky, both my grandfather and I were forced to enter this world."

"And that's why I'm so glad you're not going to train him just like the way it happened to you. I just want him to be happy, in whatever he decides to do."

"Let's allow time to decide, my dear. We will know by the passing of the seasons. And we have many years to _live_ to see it."

* * *

"Don't worry, Mr. and Mrs. Van Helsing, little Ozzie will be very well taken care of with us!" A plump female badger cheerfully said holding the restless black bunny, who was trying to keep his mother as long as he could before she leaves to some remote and unknown place in the company of his father, as they had done on other occasions, for days and even weeks.

"I promise we'll be back before you know it, my little one. And when we return, we will go on vacation to a very nice place, where the sea can be seen. Would you like that?" A giggle from the little rabbit reassured the already disquiet heart of Susanna van Helsing, giving him one more hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I love you so much, Oswald, be good and obey Auntie Badger, okay?"

"We'll give you an orc or vampire fang as a gift, I'm sure that it will look great on you as a pendant or earring when you're older." Rueben van Helsing answered with a good-natured smile, making the child laugh. Although, truth be told, not shared by the stout female badger who, for a few moments, had twisted her mouth at his words.

Little Oswald Abraham van Helsing watched with his big dark eyes as his mother and father, while waving their hands in farewell, entered the light carriage with purple draperies which, moments later, it would be lost in the streets of Enkhuizen, in search of the point located to the lands of the east, beyond the dense territories of the Black Forest, in search of their new mission.

He continued to make pitiful noises in an attempt not to cry, moving more against the arms of the female badger making ring in her pockets the gold bag that her neighbors had given to her (as on other occasions) as payment for taking the trouble to taking care of their little and only child until their eventual return.

He already wished they would return from the moment he lost sight of them and began to hear the somewhat insidious comments about his parents from his so _solicitous_ neighbors.

"Did you _hear_ what he said? Good Lord, what kind of father would say that?"

"They're slayers, you already know that. Those who receive money from us for supposedly protecting us. They're a bunch of _scavengers_."

"_Especially_ those of the Van Helsing family, just seeing them gives me the creeps. I hope they don't take long to come back."

**…**

The shadows of the trees lengthened along the narrow, bumpy road through the small woods. They had already traveled more than 20 leagues in less than two hours, so they calculated that they would reach their destination in the letter just at dusk. The galloping of the horses was making a thud that echoed a little in the dense stillness of the place. After a hasty week-long trip through the mountainous region of the German Empire, crossing the different towns and cities still convulsed by revolutionary outbursts since 1848, they had already reached the borders of Serbia and Montenegro, on their way to their final destination: Moldova.

Susanna van Helsing couldn't help feeling restless for great part of the trip.

According to the mysterious letter, the order was to eliminate a strange group that had been wandering through one of those lost villages that were on the border between Moldova and the kingdom of Wallachia. The nature of the group itself was unknown, even if they were mortals or not. The possibilities were several and each one was more disturbing than the other: A group of vampires, hybrids, demons? They had no idea and that was what she hated most: Unlike her husband, she was not very fond of playing blind, she liked to fight on solid ground, with full knowledge of the rules of the game. But unfortunately, things had turned out that way and, as Rueben had said at the beginning of the last trip: _"We'll have to improvise, dear."_

That decidedly wasn't good to hear. She forced herself to think of something that would give her the strength to move on and, of course, her mind catapulted thousands of miles back, where the object of her infinite adoration was, both for her and her husband: Oswald. Their little one, their bread from heaven, their beautiful jewel, their greatest source of joy and the little candle that illuminated their lives darkened by the hardness of their work. For the marriage of the Van Helsings, he undoubtedly had been a huge blessing from God and the Holy Mother to have him in their arms, after a long journey of anguish for both: Oswald had been the _only_ one who had been born alive of Susanna's litter on that stormy night of 1878, something that they had attributed as a sign of blessing and good luck.

_"God has allowed us to at least preserve this one for some reason, my love. He's going to be a lucky rabbit and he will be destined for great things, I'm sure!"_

Oh, how she had come to believe that! She remembered that she had spent all of the first week awake, praying fervently to God and the Holy Virgin for the welfare of their little Oswald. But soon, seeing the energetic dark-eyed bunny glide over her breasts as he sucked hungrily and look at her with a bubbly smile full of innocence, she had ended up believing in the words of her beloved husband. He would _live_, she was sure of it: He would grow up to be a strong rabbit as his father was and as wise as his grandfather, the great Abraham van Helsing, famous throughout Europe for having fought face to face with Dracula himself, of whom Oswald had inherited the second name. Like every new mother, Susanna had already imagined a whole lifetime for her beloved son, she would see him grow and develop into what he wanted to do... While not really wanting Oswald to become a hunter someday... still, very, very deep of her being as a already consecrated slayer, it would be great for her and her husband that the little bunny follow the tradition of the family. She strongly prayed to God to give them both enough life to see that day.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Rueben's whistle to his horse, making them stop in the middle of a clearing surrounded by large oaks.

The last solar rays had just disappeared; the sky, which previously had a soft, faded orange color, had been replaced by a velvety dark blue as a forget-me-not petal. Soon the Moon, like a pale and spectral face, would emerge from the darkness. Already, the slayers began to hear the enigmatic noises that produced the invisible beings that lived in the depths of the trees. There was a smell of sap and humidity in the air. Several meters away from them, something could be seen... Rueben had taken his old copper binoculars and was making gestures at his wife to take them and see for herself, something she did immediately: Indeed, a far away, partially hidden among the trees, one could see the roofs of a set of houses and, in the middle of them, a tower that had a kind of Maltese cross (1) engraved in relief, although it had all its pointed sides for some reason, and also a ring surrounding it. Susannah looked away from the binoculars and looked at her husband with a question in her eyes that he understood right away.

"You saw the same thing, right? I don't recognize that cross from there... Although I'm sure I've heard it from somewhere... " He frowned. "This is where, according to the map attached to the letter, where the group to be eliminated is currently residing. Let's go slowly and around those houses there," he added, pointing to his right, receiving a compliant nod from Susanna.

Leaving the horses tied in a fallen trunk that was close to there, the two hunter rabbits approached as quietly as they could, reaching one end of the small village, with their senses at _maximum_ and their long ears raised, attentive to any sound that sounded amiss that could emerge from the trees or from some of the houses. After five minutes, they realized that the stillness that dominated that place lost from the hand of God was far from normal: Nothing was heard, as if it was a ghost town. In fact, that strange stillness and silence was only causing a tension that was rising in level every second, becoming increasingly unbearable. Susanna clung to both her musket and her little locket hidden under her bodice, with her eyes wide open, trying to see something, _anything_... A tiny crunch to her right puts them on alert and they automatically looked to that side.

…And that were their _mistake_.

Something hard and heavy, perhaps a mallet, had smashed into Rueben's back suddenly, wrenching him a scream of pain and alerting Susanna, who had taken out the musket and started firing at that direction, noting a few seconds later with absolute disbelief that behind of her husband there was _nobody_.

"What the...?" She could not say more, because another mallet had hit her, this time on the side of her head; a lacerating pain pierced her skull and a sudden hot liquid that started to slide of her cheek could only mean that they had managed to make her temple bleed. She screamed in rage and turned on herself, managing to notice a figure wrapped in a hooded black robe behind her with a kind of giant hammer held high, ready to strike another blow, which she countered this by throwing a powerful kick with her feet, sending the attacker away. She turned again to her husband, noting that he had taken out his famous six-inch hunting knives and was fighting furiously against two hooded figures at the same time, armed with long butcher blades, making their weapons emit silver flashes in the darkness. Moments later, she had taken out her own knife and was fighting against a hooded figure who was doubling her in stature. They had no idea where the hell all these hooded figures had come from, but they knew they had to fight because they seemed to want to fight to the death.

Suddenly, several cries of pain coursed through the air: It was from one of the black figures, who's hood had slipped, revealing himself as a weasel that was making horrid screams to have one of the knives of Rueben buried deep in his left eye... Also showing to have two extremely _long_ canine teeth for his species, making him _look_ more like...

"They're vampires! Use your stakes, honey...! " That was what he managed to say, because two thousandths of a second later, the rabbit let out a heartwrenching scream, as he fell to his knees on the ground, squeezing hard on his left side, which was slowly darkening red.

"Rueben!" Susanna had run to her husband, after making a deep cut in the stomach of the colossus, causing him to fall backwards. She fell to her knees beside him, staring in horror at her own blood-filled hand after placing it on his wound. "We have to get out of here, they are too many for us, we have to...!"

"...You are _not_ going _anywhere_, van Helsings."

Both black rabbits were stunned and watched bewildered as, from the depths of the trees and from the same houses of wood and straw... more and more figures covered in black robes emerged in their direction, some of them with their faces uncovered, looking at the couple with avid eyes. Susanna looked in all possible directions, breathing raggedly, looking for some way out, still holding Rueben against herself, who seemed to have difficulty breathing because of the depth of his wound. The throbbing pain of her head became more notorious, giving her a sense of absurd unreality: No, no. This couldn't be happening, it isnt't true, it isn't...

"...Oh, but of course it's true, my sweet Mrs. Van Helsing. You can see it with your own eyes," the harsh, mocking voice had once again said, shaking the female rabbit. Had they just read her mind? She looked frantically everywhere, looking for the source of that sound.

"Who you are?! Show yourself! "She screamed, clenching her teeth in anger, still clinging to her husband against her in a vain attempt to protect him. The figures in black began to laugh wildly, some throwing boos and even spitting at the wounded couple:

"So this is what the famous van Helsings _really_ are, a couple of weak rabbits!"

"That's how we wanted to have you, a couple of wretches! You will pay for what your family has done to our great leader! "

"...At last we meet, van Helsing" the voice of before had spoken one more time, but this time it was heard much clearer and so, both rabbits could see him..: A figure also wearing black robes, but also had stamped on his chest the same strange cross they had seen before, now with complete clarity, causing Rueben to gasp in surprise.

"That cross... You are..."

"...Faithful followers of our master and lord, the true king of this world, who has given us the wonderful gift of eternal life, a gift that you, pathetic mortals so aspire to have and that your false and deceitful god will never give you, because our lord is the being we should all adore," the apparent leader said, approaching to them with unbearably slow steps. "I imagine that you both know who we are, because your ancestor, the first van Helsing, dared to confront our great god, making us lose a great part of our power."

"Hehehe... Aggghhh... You _adore_ a vampire who fancied himself a god, who was beaten up by our grandfather? I think you should revise your sense of logic." Rueben said between gasps, staring defiantly at the cult leader, already struggling against the fulminating pain in his side. The hooded figure just laughed.

"I understand that making fun of those who are superior to you is just a way of mask your _own_ terror and failure," the priest replied in a soft voice that sincerely chilled their blood. "But I must admit, even though you both are mortal creatures and, therefore, inferior to us, you have shown great value in the face of your imminent death. Something that we may find... _useful_ for us."

And before one could snap his fingers, the van Helsing couple were caught by the claws of several weasels. As the screams of Susanna echoed, trying to break free from her captors, Rueben had pulled a dagger hidden in the lapel of his jacket with the intention of helping his wife, but then felt a hand that grabbed his arm with an iron grip and then twisted it, splitting his bones and making him scream like a madman, all that before the impassive gaze of the priest, who had lowered his hood, revealing himself as an aged weasel full of gruesome scars.

"Now, now... _Stop_ shouting you two, if you behave and obey us, we assure you that the wounds that so afflict you will disappear in a few moments... It's just a matter of making every little thing so insignificant that it won't last _for long _and that will mean _everything_..." And after saying that, he opened his jaws, revealing his huge vampire fangs, making clear any other explanation.

Rueben and Susanna van Helsing looked in horror at this dilemma: Become vampires? The very beings that their family had sworn to destroy and that his grandfather, may God bless his soul, had fought against one of the most terrible and legendary leaders until death? Would they condemn themselves to serve forever that abominable cult to do who knows what atrocities against their loved ones, against... _against_... him?

"…Well? What do you say, van Helsings?"

Rueben van Helsing, already on the verge of fainting by the loss of blood, shared a look with Susanna, the love of his life, his lifelong companion, both on the battlefield as in the house and in the bed, and, by the stare that the female black rabbit had given him back, he _knew_ that she had understood him _perfectly_. He closed his eyes for a moment. And when he opened them again, he exclaimed:

"We say... GO TO HELL!"

And before they could do anything, Rueben had buried the small dagger against his neck, slashing it and making him collapse to the ground, inert. And seconds later, Susanna had taken the gun out of her pocket and pulled the trigger, straight at her heart, causing her to collapse as well. Undoubtedly, in the _last_ moments of life, those that seem _eternal_, an image was embedded in their minds at the time of falling into the dark pit and _without_ any possibility of returning:

_…Oswald. _

**_…_**

He saw the rotten leaves being blown by the wind from the narrow window where he had been huddled several hours ago, after a long nap, always dreaming of them. His gaze seemed to be lost from time to time at some distant point of the cobbled street, still full of passers-bys at that hour, imagining that at any moment, in the middle of the crowded mass of coats and shawls, the faces of his parents would be shown, tired and perhaps bruised, but smiling at him, as they always did, no matter what. During all those two weeks that had passed since their departure, he had been dreaming of that moment, savoring the prospect of spending a very long season with his parents, without any news of any bad monster or anything like that could ruin it.

Monsters... Oswald _never_ saw a monster before. Of course, Oswald knew what they were. Once his father had shown him some toys and puppets that he had brought from one of his trips: They were big, ugly and bad creatures that had to be taught a good lesson. And then his mother had added that if he ever saw one in the garden or the backyard of the house, he had to run to tell his mommy or daddy and they would teach him a lesson immediately.

Giving the monsters a lesson, that's what his parents do. And although like any child of his age, Oswald was proud of them, he couldn't help but feel a hint of disquiet when he was left in the care of his neighbors and saw them depart for some mission. Deep down, he wishes that they never have to leave, that they were always there with him, playing with him, talking with him, teaching him about everything they had seen in their travels around the world ... Being a complete and united family, the Van Helsing family. He smiled, closing his eyes, imagining that the pillow against his cheek was his mother's chest, and in some point, he would feel the big and heavy hand of his father caressing his head...

"What are we going to do? How are we going to tell him? "

"You're going to tell him. _Don't_ look at me."

The voices of dad and mom badger had begun to be heard from the other side of the room, Oswald stood still as he could, pretending to sleep, listening.

"Poor thing, this is going to be a terrible blow for him, being so young. What will happen to him?"

"Isn't it _obvious_, dear? We will send him over to those institutions for children, there they will take care of him."

"Are... Are you saying we're going to take him there? Woman, what the hell are you saying? We cannot leave him there, we can't... We promised to take care of him, we promised that to them, Imelda."

"Well, they didn't say anything in the case that they died and that's what's happening now." he heard the woman say harshly, "He's not our responsibility, Jack; they didn't foresee anything, and they only went where God knows where and now look how they ended up: Slaughtered. Everyone is talking about that in the street... Hmph, I always _knew_ the dangers of that risky job, almost always _unnecessary_ and which is only to earn easy money, would explode to their face some day."

"I didn't know you disliked the Van Helsing family so much, and still, you always _accepted_ in taking care of their son."

"Of course, money is _always_ well received in this house, and you know it. It's never enough to feed everyone, and now we're stuck with an extra mouth here and he's not even part of our family." He heard a sigh. "There they will take care of him, better than what we could do here".

"Very well, do what you want, may God listen to you and what you say be true."

And they had retired to the other room, leaving him alone, with his childish mind now erupting in complete and absolute chaos**_: "... In the case of dying" "Slaughtered" "...Slaughtered" "Slaughtered..."_**

He would never feel his father's hand caressing his head or hearing his songs and stories about his many adventures. He would never feel the comforting beat of his mother's heart, nor her kisses nor her lullabies in the small room painted in blue.

They _wouldn't_ return. Nevermore.

He didn't sleep that night, trying not to cry in the already crowded room full of badger babies, who slept soundly, completely oblivious to the pain that was tearing the small heart of that black bunny who, in the end, was just a visitor, a stranger to all of them.

The next day, the tall black bars that made up the doors of the orphanage would open for the badger of sad and distant expressions, who would holding by the hand a reticent and even more distant Oswald, who would see with apprehension the huge solemn orphanage that from now it would be his "home"... Even though he knew that it never would be his home. _Never_.

He no longer had a home, no parents, no toys, not even his favorite blanket with which his mother had wrapped him when he was born.

_Only_ his surname was the only thing he had and would have for now.

_Van Helsing._

Oswald _van Helsing._

**To be continued.**

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**Notes:**

**(1) **The Maltese Cross is identified as the symbol of the knights who served in the Jerusalem hospital, known first as the Knights of the Hospitaller Order and later as Knights of St. John. The cross is eight points and has the shape of four "V" joined by their vertices, so that each arm has two points. Its design is based on crosses used since the First Crusade.


	2. Felix

**II**

_Felix_

**_Sighisoara, Transylvania, February 16th of 1876. 2 years later._**

It's _always_ been said that there was no place like home. _Home_ is where the heart is. _Home_ is where you're surrounded by the people you love. To most, those words would be true. But to some other, those words would be a simple bullshit for silly dreamers... This is especially true to those who had _no_ home to begin with. As for Oswald Van Helsing, there was no real home for him. Not anymore. That is what had gone through his mind every single day ever since he was taken to this orphanage. No matter where he would go, he would never feel the love and tenderness he did when he was in his real home. Not ever. And as far as having people who you love surrounding him? Well, that couldn't be more _absent_ in his life.

"Alright, runts!" A rather short, plump, but very loud woman suddenly shouted at the crowd of children in front of her. "You have until five minutes to get all that mess in the halls cleaned up, or you can forget about having dinner tonight! Is that understood?!" The woman finished in a harsh tone.

"Yes, ma'am!" The group of children had shouted back, doing as the woman had ordered. Like always, they were doing their best to make sure that the hallways were spic and span, doing whatever it took to make it look like so. Be it sweeping the floors, cleaning it with rags, it did not matter. What did matter to the children was getting food in their stomachs. Even if it was just horrid porridge, like what they get almost every day.

Oswald, while compliant, didn't seem as willing to work as the rest of them. _"Gee, I lost count about how many times we go to bed without eating at dinner". _Oswald thought to himself in a sarcastic manner as he dusted the grandfather clock at the end of the hallway with a rather dirty feather duster which seemed to defeat the purpose as to why he was using it in the first place. Of course, this is how it's always been at the orphanage. Ever since the day he was dropped off after the funeral of his parents, this was the daily routine: Clean around the building as much as possible, every day. Rake the leaves, wash the dishes, dust the floors, the clock, the shelves. Dust this, dust that. Wipe this, wipe that. It would almost seem _endless_. If one child should refuse to comply with whatever task is assigned to them, they would be punished quite _harshly_. Be it that they were either spanked, slapped, locked inside their room for the remainder of the day, or they have some other kid's chores dumped onto them. There was once a time during the first few years that Oswald had threw a fit when he was supposed to be raking the fallen leaves during the season of Fall, and this resulted in him receiving quite the beating, as well as having more chores being handed to him. To this day, Oswald still remembers how _much_ he had cried that day from the pain. It was the opposite of something one would like to experience, that is for sure.

And that could extend to _everything_ related to that place.

The move to that place in Transylvania from the Netherlands had _always_ been a _mystery_ to Oswald. From the first day he did not stop asking those tall and apathetic strangers whom accompanied them during the long trip for the reason of taking them to that place, always receiving silences or shouts that if he doesn´t shut up they will give him a beating. Thus, squeezed together among other children, just as confused, frightened and bewildered as he was, like _cattle_ being transported to the _slaughterhouse_, they were taken to that place.

The situation of the Sighisoara orphanage couldn't be more depressing: The shadows of its walls and vaults where moisture is oozed didn't compare with the faces of the caregivers who received the convoy of children with everything but a smile or so some word of consolation. From the first day the rules were established, without any change or replica: _'To earn your bread, you had to work'_… And boy, they weren't _exaggerating_ with the "work" part.

Any person with a little empathy would be horrified by the harsh treatment these little ones received, but unfortunately in those times, with the ravages of the wars and revolutionary outbreaks, the scourge of smallpox that ravaged half of any city, not to mention the sieges of monsters like giants, orcs or ogres in a town in search of food, it wasn't surprising that they ended up in hundreds of separated families and with them, of course, many children abandoned and taken to orphanages, many of them ignored and lacking control by the kings and rulers, giving them in this case complete _freedom_ to do what they wanted with them.

The regime they had been imposed from the first day always began from the moment of dawn, where the children were taken out of bed to perform the first task which was "cleaning" the rooms, even if they had done so yesterday. After an infamous and abominable breakfast that _only_ a skeletal ascetic hidden in a grotto would have accepted willingly, they would all meet in a large room where they would receive their daily lesson from one of their caretakers, mostly allegories about the greatness of hard work and how God would send children who don't do that to the deepest parts of Hell, creating a good amount of fear among the children, at least. Then, they would be separated into different groups to assign them some cleaning task until dusk. At bedtime, they would be sent to their narrow beds with quite thin sheets, each child being too exhausted to talk or even move around.

And it's went on since then, with each child constantly going through that tedious and boring routine. There were no books, there were no games, much less toys... Oswald and the rest of the children _didn't_ know how to play, they don't know how to read, they didn't know anything. All they knew was what they had to do every day.

"Hmm, not bad, but all of you took too long." the plump woman grumbled looking with critical eyes at the clean walls and, with complete coldness, the group of dirty, ragged and pale children who were formed in a row, trembling in front of her, waiting for her final judgement, as she ordered. "Well, you can eat, but you will eat only half of the usual. Now go to the dining room, move now!" She shouted harshly, snapping her fingers in front of them.

Oswald waited for the woman to turn to give her a look of contempt. _Only_ half of the usual? If what they were usually given to eat was exactly half of what would be a plate of normal food, they'd be fine for the majority of the day! He let out a sigh, shuffling his way to the ramshackle dining room, like the others.

**…**

Oswald sat down at one of the tables, in the middle of two other children, seeing that their bowls were already filled. With a stoic expression on his face, he grabbed the spoon next to him, ready to eat. Or ready as he could be anyhow. He plunged the wooden spoon into the porridge bowl. And as the caregiver said, it was exactly less than the usual and there was no doubt that he would eat everything in less than five bites, leaving him at least as hungry as the beginning. Just looking at the gray lumps of the porridge made him feel worse.

With a melancholy look, he looked around: The dining room was a large place, and although there was enough light coming from the tall, narrow windows, it didn't do anything to change the already sad atmosphere it had, already somber by the bare gray walls and cold, the rough wooden tables without sanding and the chandeliers of the ceiling with dry sails. Virtually all the children ate in silence, with their heads down. No laughs, no songs, no jokes. Nothing. He looked again at the insalubrious lumps on his plate, imagining that they were the sweet biscuits prepared by his mother so that he could eat that without vomiting.

"I'm _not_ going to eat this garbage." At the sudden voice, Oswald raised his head. It was a black cat with a white face and pointy ears who had just sat down noisily by his side, looking at his plate with absolute displeasure. He didn't know his name or where he came from, he just knew that he was one of the new ones that had arrived more or less a week ago. He did look like he was from the streets, with the brown cap on his head, a light brown wool jacket, and fingerless wool gloves that had seemed to be losing color. This one had apparently noticed Oswald's gaze on him. "What're you _looking_ at, long ears?" He asked in an inquisitive tone.

"Nothing," Oswald said and looked at his bowl again, trying to evoke again the memory of the plate of biscuits so that he could eat his food, or lack thereof, until he noticed that the black cat clicked his tongue.

"What a coincidence that they're _not_ here while we eat this pile of crap." The cat had scowled.

"Excuse me?" Oswald had asked, puzzled.

"I'm talkin' about them, of course. Those who say they take care of us. They retire through that large green door at the back of the dining room and then come out with round bellies like wine barrels. They never stay with us. " The cat stated.

Oswald said nothing but looked around more closely. Apart from them and the rest of the children, there were only a couple of caregivers at the ends, more focused on dozing or reading a book than on paying attention to them. He thought about what that cat had said: Every time they sat in the dining room, most of their caregivers retreated through the huge green door, then resurged from it joyful, visibly satisfied and even some with suspicious spots on the fabric of their white aprons.

"You can see them, right? They never eat the same smelly food as us, they're always fat as pigs, so it's obvious that the real food is being hidden from us. You think that's fair? Of course not, and I'm going to do something to fix that...and maybe you can help me." The cat said.

"Help you? You're kidding, right? I don't intend to get into trouble." Oswald grumbled, raising his spoon full of porridge and opening his mouth to eat it.

"...I know where they keep it. And I've seen it. " The cat added.

"What?" Oswald raised his eyebrow, stopping himself.

"The food, long ears. They have the pantry full of sausages, cheeses, bread, ceramic jugs full of honey and even wine."

Oswald lowered the spoon and stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"I swear by my nine lives and by my mother, may she rest in peace," the cat replied, making a cross on his chest. "The problem is that all that is in the highest part of the pantry and I can't reach it despite being a cat. But you're a rabbit. You can jump higher than me. " The cat had told him.

"And when would we do that?" Oswald had asked him.

"Sometime at night. And we would take it to our bedroom, we could share it with our fellows and finally enjoy a real dinner." The cat replied with a smile.

Oswald was silent, pondering his words. He looked back at the green door. Could it be true what he was saying? Or would it be a lie to get him in trouble and leave him for up to three days without food? He fixed his gaze on the face of the cat, whose expression of sly confidence was evident. "And how will I know that this isn't some trick to get me in trouble with them?"

The cat made a smile: "If you have so much doubt, bunny, why don't we give our names to each other? If it turns out that I'm lying, you can always blow the whistle to the caregivers." He extended his hand, in sign of making a deal. "I am Felix S. Navidad, at your service. Your turn."

Oswald gave another questioning glance to the now expectant cat. After a moment's hesitation, he shook his hand with vigor. "Oswald Abraham van Helsing."

**…**

Before they all knew it, dusk had arrived, meaning it was time for all the children to go to their rooms as usual, and as expected they instantly plopped down on their beds, covering themselves up with their thin blankets. Sooner than later they fell asleep. Well, almost everyone. Oswald was wide awake, arms behind his head. It was hard for him to sleep with a bed that had the most uncomfortable mattress. He had been thinking about what Felix had said earlier about the food.

_'There's something about what that cat said that I just don't trust…'_ Oswald thought to himself. _'He looks like he might try and trick me.'_ And perhaps he was right. But then again, he doesn't know anything about this person. Perhaps the cat is telling the truth. But there's still the lingering doubt in Oswald's head that he may or may not end up being double-crossed.

Before he could finish his thoughts, he suddenly jerked up when he heard a silent "Psst!" in the room. He looked around the area, only to find the cat himself poking his head out through the door. "Hey, long ears! Come on and get up! They're asleep! You don't wanna waste time nappin', do ya?" Felix whispered as he signaled Oswald to follow him.

"Alright fine, I'm coming." Oswald moaned in slight annoyance, hopping out of the bed. After Felix removed himself from the door, Oswald slipped through the crack of the door, now out of the room.

"Alright then, Oswald. Here's how it's gonna go. The key to unlock the door is stuck inside the lock. I'm going to turn it, and when I do, that's where you'll try and get the food." Felix had stated.

"Ok, that's fine. But I didn't know that they'd just leave the key in the lock like that." Oswald said.

"Yeah. I've only been here a week, but that alone just tells me they underestimate us kids very badly. Now, let's get movin'." With that, the rabbit and the cat made their way to the dining room, Oswald occasionally looking in all directions to ensure that none of the caregivers were actually still awake. Soon enough, they approached the green door. And as Felix said, the key was stuck into the lock.

"Hm. Just like you said, they left it in there." Oswald said, folding his arms.

"Told ya, long ears. Now, hold on a minute." Felix replied as he stood on the tip of his toes, reaching for the key. However, it was quite difficult for him, considering he was only a few inches taller than Oswald. "Grrr… come on..." Felix grunted as he kept trying to get ahold of the key. Oswald was starting to get worried that all the noise Felix was making would attract unwanted attention. After a few attempts, he managed to grab the key and turn it, allowing the door to open. "Yes!" Felix whispered in excitement.

Oswald, while not fully showing it, was quite amused by this. Probably more so than Felix was. Although, it's most likely just the fact that they haven't been caught yet.

The two then entered the room, only to be awestruck with what they saw afterwards, mostly Oswald. It was almost as if they had walked into a market, abundant in a variety of different kinds of food. Just like how Felix described. There were all sorts of fruit, cheeses, loaves of bread, jars of honey, and so much more.

"Well, well. What did I tell ya, Oswald? I was right!" Felix said, much pride being heard in his voice.

Oswald nodded, staring at the food once more. "So, what are we getting?" He asked.

Felix looked around, scratching his chin. He then spotted a rather large bread loaf next to what appeared to be half a dozen jars of honey on the top shelf. He smirked and looked back at Oswald. "That up there?" He said, pointing to the top of the shelf. "I want ya to get that. There's about six up there, so taking at least one shouldn't rattle the adults."

"All the way up there? Uh, are you sure?" Oswald asked.

"Well, you shouldn't have a problem gettin' up there! You're a rabbit, right? Get up there and get 'em!" Felix replied, tapping his foot.

Oswald rolled his eyes, staring up at the shelf. Even for a rabbit like him, could he really jump that high? And without making any sudden noises that would guarantee them getting caught? Only one way to find out.

Oswald bent his knees, and sprang up, reaching only the first few shelf boards. He landed back down, only to spring up once more, again, only making it past a couple of shelf boards.

Felix watched as Oswald kept attempting to reach for the top. His expression slowly turned from confident to one of concern. He tapped his fingers on his arm, waiting for Oswald to actually make it.

Oswald landed back down after a few tries, panting out of exhaustion. Felix looked disappointed.

"Oswald, you're kinda startin' to worry me. I'm gonna have to ask you to hurry it up and get the stuff before we end up getting in trouble!" Felix said, now appearing to be getting a wee bit anxious.

Oswald looked back up, trying to catch his breath. He knew he had to get the bread and the honey. But he's never jumped this high before. In fact, he hasn't jumped in a while. Still, it wasn't going to stop him from getting a free late-night meal.

"Come on..." Oswald mumbled to himself as he bent his knees once again, this time lowering himself further than before. After a bit, he sprung up again, this time, making it to the edge of the top shelf! Felix looked up, his anxious expression changing. Oswald grabbed onto the edge, letting himself up onto the top. "I made it!" Oswald whispered, a hint of joy in his voice.

Felix gave Oswald a thumbs up, then signaled him to get the goods. Oswald nodded and grabbed the bread loaf in one hand, and grabbing the honey jar in the other, tossing it down to Felix, who caught it flawlessly. Oswald then hopped down, looking quite proud of himself.

"Alright, quick! Let's go!" Felix said as he speed-walked through the door. Oswald followed closely behind, shutting the door behind him. He then stopped and went back, hopping up and turning the key to lock it again. He went back to following Felix into his room. Their attempt was successful.

No doubt it was a great surprise in the dark bedroom where the rest of the children saw, stunned and with their mouths drooling water with desire, the unexpected prizes. The murmurs and mute expressions of gratitude when receiving a bit of the food was, definitely, the best way to end the day for Oswald and Felix.


	3. Zenox

**III:**

_Zenox_

After several weeks, spring finally came with full force to Sighisoara. The sun had re-emerged, warming the earth. Fresh green sprouts had already emerged as flowers from the almost disappeared white spots of snow from the fields and streets. There was a smell of fresh herbs, lavender and freshly baked bread; Sweetness was felt in the air, inviting to everyone to live and to enjoy. Different birds like jays and sparrows eagerly pecked at the crumbs of bread thrown from the terraces of the tents for after flying away while chirping, their joyful songs reached the limits of the orphanage's garden, always gloomy even in the midst of so much joyful radiance of the town.

Oswald observed everything from one of the narrow windows in one of the corridors of the highest floors of the orphanage while he cleaned the floor with an old mop. He saw people leaving their homes early to begin their hard work in the fields, while others began to carry hay in their carts. Even at the early hours of the morning, there were already children running in the street, happy because the rawness of the winter was finally over. From that privileged position, he had a better view of the town: the wood and stone houses, the needle-shaped roofs and the outer defensive walls of more than 200 years old that surrounded it, gave the place a quite charming air, and he was sure that, if he were allowed to go outside, he would be able to perceive the nice smell of butter and smoky green log. He couldn't contain a smile and, since at that moment he was alone, that smile turned into a boastful giggle, that kind of giggle that you make when you did a mischief, and no one caught you. And the reason for his giggle was _nothing_ more nor less than the little sweet bread that he had just taken out of his pocket and eating it in little bites, just at feeling the sweetness of the cinnamon and the honey sliding down his tongue was a way to _underline_ their most recent (and again successful) incursion to the food pantry.

Since their first successful night, Oswald and Felix had agreed to continue to heist the pantry at least once a week to avoid the caregivers' suspicions, so they always saw the key embedded in the lock on the door, ready and willing to them. Then, they would repeat the same process the first time, with Oswald jumping to the highest ledges, managing to do it with less and less effort to achieve it, surprised himself by his improved agility. After taking the easiest thing to grab, carry and hide (especially the latter), they would slip back into the fragrant darkness of their room. At first, they had gone for the easiest: Honey, dry meat, candied nuts, sausages and cheeses, things already stored since the beginning of winter. But with the arrival of spring, there were new delicacies within reach of their paws: hot buns, fresh vegetables, cakes and wafers and even bottled liquor and cider. It was too tempting, and they wouldn't let the opportunity pass for anything in the world.

"_Enjoying_ breakfast, huh?"

Oswald jumped at the repetitious harsh voice that sounded just behind his back. Still holding the half-finished bread, he turned his head with his heart beating wildly... And then he composed an annoyed expression: "For heaven's sake, stop doing that!"

"What? It's fun to imitate the voices of caregivers, you could try sometime." Felix laughed approaching the rabbit. "I just got back from my morning round: Since apparently tomorrow will be the chubby woman's birthday, there will be turkey stuffed with apples and cranberries as dinner."

Oswald's mouth watered at the image of such a plate delight, worthy of a king's table. But then a thought assailed him: "Wait a moment: As far as I know, the caregivers are out of the orphanage at this moment, how could you get out and find out about all that if the doors are closed for us?"

Felix outlined a boastful smile: "Oh, my dear Ozzie, do you still _not_ know who you are talking to? _I'm_ a cat, I can reach many places that seem to be out of reach... It's a natural gift that is extremely useful... How knows, maybe you _should_ transmit that in your children in some very, very distant future, hehehe."

"…And that _will_ happen when the elephants can _fly_ with their ears." Oswald joked finished eating the rest of the sweet bread.

"Never say never, as my poor mother said when I was refusing to eat stewed liver because I believed that was something disgusting and that I would never like it... Okay, what do you say, long ears? Will you join me for the big hunt of tonight?"

"What do you mean? Are you talkin' about the stuffed turkey? You're nuts, Felix: it would be too big to carry by us, and that would be too _obvious_, and you know it."

"Did I say it would be the whole turkey? Clean those big floppy ears that you have, Oswald. We will be like those birds that were eating seeds out there: We will take it for crumbs, so small that they won't notice."

"Wouldn't it be too risky?" inquired Oswald, crossing his arms, rather worried about the too reckless attitude of his new friend.

"What is life _but_ a game full of risks? At some point we will have to _experience_ it and you can only follow the current or sink into it." the black cat replied with forcefulness. "Also, think about the beating they gave you last week for defending that kid."

Oswald was silent, looking at the ground. He vividly remembered that episode: It was during dinner, while everyone was getting up to line up to deliver their empty plates, that a small one with long floppy ears had slipped his plate from his hands, breaking into a thousand pieces when it crashed to the ground. Due to the obligatory silence for everyone, the noise was greatly expanded: The little boy was trembling with fear as she rushed to pick up the pieces of broken porcelain with his hands, reaching to cut his fingers in the process. At that moment, Oswald had come to try to help the scared boy pick up the pieces, when the caretakers had approached, with a face that was _everything_ but not nice.

"_Who_ made this mess? You or that weeping brat?" One of the caretakers asked sternly. Oswald glanced sideways at the little female skunk, trembling as cling to her injured hands... Then he looked back at the caretaker.

"It was me."

The result of that day was quite obvious: Oswald returned to his bed with his back sore from the twenty blows of leash that they had made him and the prohibition to eat dinner at least for a whole week. The latter certainly didn't matter, but his wounds hurt... Because it _wasn't_ fair. No, _nothing_ was fair in that disgusting place. And precisely for that reason, it would be fair to give them their deserved where it hurt them the most. Turning to see the expectant Felix, he nodded at the end. Tonight, they would go for the jackpot.

* * *

"Do you smell it, Ozzie?" The black cat whispered after gaining access to the pantry at nightfall, once again with the key in the lock. The air of leftover chicken and loaves of bread had made them shudder from before they entered there. Oswald didn't answer right away but took his time to catch the delicious smell again. It had been almost a torture to have perceived that smell (at its maximum power) when the huge turkey had left the kitchen, between the shouts of joy of the chubby female caretaker, with the napkin that was worn on her neck already stained with wine, while that they both and the rest of the children went to bed with their stomachs roaring, already fed up with the awful porridge or the abominable lentils.

Like the previous time, they didn't carry candles, but were guided by Felix's ability to see in the darkness and their noses. The smell was getting stronger as they approached the large paper-lined boxes in one corner. Once indicated the exact point, after the signal of the black cat, the rabbit jumped to the highest box, opening the lid that covered it, wrapping even more the air of the small room in the intoxicating smell. Taking one of the legs of the turkey, both the delicious smell and the soft feeling of the meat between his fingers _made_ Oswald's exhausted stomach _take_ control of the situation, making him unable to think: He just _opened_ his mouth.

"Long ears?" Felix asked, raising his eyebrows as he caught the more than obvious sound of teeth tearing off a piece of meat. Oswald froze at the voice of his friend, after several seconds of being lost in paradise, then he swallowed slowly. "Hey, I know that you're hungry, I'm dying too, but be patient, okay?"

"I couldn't help it, it's too good," Oswald muttered apologetically, tossing Felix's turkey leg and then grabbing a couple of quails (the smallest ones he could find) half-finished and a loaf of bread. He jumped to the ground and carrying the loot of today they left the door, closing it firmly.

"Oh, we would have taken the sauce of boreal berries, they say it melts in your mouth" Felix was saying as they reached the second floor, completely deserted. Oswald was about to suggest that the sauce would be his goal for the following week... when a noise of a distant cough made him raise his ears and stop abruptly. Felix, surprised, stopped too. "What _happe_...?"

"Shhhh!" Oswald whispered, pressing his hand against the cat's mouth, and then keeping silent, his ears were still up. Then the dry cough became louder again. "Over here," he whispered, pulling Felix to stand next to an old, huge grandfather clock. Just a second later, a long figure in pajamas had crossed the corner, carrying a small candelabrum in his hand and rubbing his belly with another.

"Ugh, I _won't_ do that ridiculous thing to see who eats more apple pie again," the caretaker grumbled while he was walking with difficulty until he reached the grandfather clock. Oswald and Felix pressed as hard as they could to the wall, not daring to even breathe, praying that the caretaker wouldn't hear them ... or smell them. Finally, he passed by them, but he kept his eyes closed and kept grumbling about his stomach ailments. At the moment of seeing the broad back with thin legs of the man in front of them, the two small ones began to move towards the other side of the clock, trying not to make noise. Upon returning to feel the stone wall, they dared to take a look: It seemed that he would continue his way to the first floor, so they began to slide down the wall to reach the door that led to the stairs of the third floor where there were the bedrooms. They had already begun to climb the steps, until a voice made them freeze for a moment: "_Did_ I go crazy or does it smell _like_... _roast_ _turkey_?"

Terrified, Felix and Oswald climbed quickly, trying not to make noise, until they reached the desolate corridor of the bedrooms. They both looked at each other quickly and ran into their respective rooms. Oswald precipitated to the ground and lifted the loose board, placing the pieces of food and placing bits of dirt and grime to try to camouflage the smell. Then he threw himself into his bed, wrapping himself in the thin sheets as much as he could, until he looked like he was tied up in a straitjacket, rubbing his hands impregnated with the grease of the turkey against his clothes. He stood still, _waiting_, _listening_, _trying_ to normalize his breathing and feeling his heart beat violently. He heard the steps of the caretaker to the entrance of his bedroom, then see the front door open and feel the watery eyes of the man was stuck in the back of his neck, as well as in the other children in the room. They were the ten most unbearable seconds of his life... Until he heard his dry throat clear and then closed the door with relative strength, waking up some of his companions, beginning to whisper:

"What happened?"

"Agh, that was Edgar Balthazar, that _disgusting_ snooper. Could it be that he came to check us?"

"Hey, Van Helsing, were you lucky and you brought something?"

Oswald stood still, refusing to answer, praying that Felix had been as _good_ at hiding food as he was. The shock had suddenly removed his hunger, so he remained quiet, _forgetting_ the food hidden under the bed.

* * *

The next day, after the very poor breakfast of always, the children were taken to one of the great rooms that were used for the "life lessons". It was a large room, with chipped walls and the floor without sanding. The large windows illuminated the gray faces of the children. The only decoration was a huge painted wooden crucifix; there were no vases or paintings. Oswald and Felix sat on the floor next to each other, waiting for some lesson on how to clean or how to weave baskets, until one of the adults entered and stood in the middle of the room, silencing everyone's whispers: He was the director of the orphanage , _precisely _the one that Oswald and Felix saw last night. Edgar Balthazar was a tall type of broad chest and trunk but very thin legs, giving him the appearance of a dwarf with stilts. His gigantic nose the size of an eggplant sniffed the air, as if wanting to catch something. His watery eyes rested on each child for a few seconds, as if trying to see their souls. He started pacing the length of the room, and as he recited, he was tapping a short whip against his hand.

"I want to tell you that God _hates _liars. Lying _is _a mortal sin... As the Bible says: '_Lying lips are an abomination to God, but those who do the Truth are his contentment'_ _(1)_ and therefore, the one who lies _will _go to the lake of fire. Am I right or not?!"

"Yes, Mr. Balthazar!" the children answered in unison. In that place, calling all adults with their last names was an immovable rule.

"Right, and if that is the word of our Lord, then it is _indispensable _to _always _tell the truth. _Now_..." He paused and gave them a cold look. "_Someone _from this institution crawled like a filthy rat to the pantry and STOLE our food. And I _doubt _very much that it was one of the caretakers. So... _Obviously_, that filthy rat was some of _you_. We feed all of you very well, we take the bread out of our mouths to give them to you, my poor souls of God... Stealing is being ungrateful and that thing, God, our Lord... He doesn't like that. GOD DOESN'T LIKE THAT!" he screamed suddenly, scaring the children in the front row. Then he walked to the open window, pointing to it: "_Out _there, you would never have the three meals that we give you with so much love! _Out _there, any of you would die in less than a week, hungry, cold, beaten like dogs! And if you _don't _want to be beaten to bleed, it would be better if the responsible or those responsible for this abominable heist is revealed NOW!"

There was absolute silence. The children looked at each other in anguish, hoping that some of them would reveal themselves or be betrayed. Oswald felt fingers press against his arm, making him turn his head: Felix, who was looking at the ground, shook his head almost imperceptibly. "Felix, they're going to punish us all," thought Oswald helplessly, until a voice startled them all.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, my lords, but we have some visitors," said a scruffy and skinny maid, calling the attention of Edgar Balthazar and the other caregivers. Next to her was a tall, burly red fox with a threadbare top hat, a blue cape, and a cane. Next to him was a scrawny cat with a frayed hat and a yellow shawl. Both smiled friendly at the children. "They are Mr. H. J. Worthington and Mr. Gideon."

Balthazar blinked and then composed a smile, approaching them. "Nice to meet you, gentlemen! We'll take you to our office so we can talk comfortably!" Agnes, dear, take the children out of here and take them to the garden, to play a little and take advantage of the spring, hehe. Do you want some drink, gentlemen, some tea, gin or brandy?"

"Maybe a glass of brandy to clear the palate, dear sir; my partner will drink the same" the fox replied with a deep and somewhat sinister tone. His feline companion just nodded energetically.

Oswald and Felix left the room, accompanied by the others. They noticed that both the fox and the cat didn't take their eyes off every child that went out, which as a general rule they had to say _"Good morning"_ to each visitor and then go out into the garden. The moment Oswald greeted the men with a slight bow, he noticed the cold eyes of the fox, looking at him as if he was a piece of meat on sale. He just looked down and go out.

...

When they went out to the garden, in the midst of the children playing hide and seek or racing or simply lying on the grass and letting the soft May sun warm them, Oswald and Felix sat under a beech tree, talking in low voices. Or rather, the cat trying to calm the slightly altered rabbit: "We were very obvious, that's all, an error is committed by anyone, it's just to be more careful next time."

"_Next time?!_ We almost all got beaten up because of _us_, Felix! We would have our comrades _hurt_ because of _our_ fault!"

"And you think I'm _not_ aware of that, Oswald? It's the risk we decided to accept by calm down both our stomachs and those of some here." Felix replied taking a weed from the ground and nibbling it. Oswald gave him an incisive look. "In addition, _don't_ forget the lies that Mr. Balthazar said to us in the middle of his sermon: They do _NOT_ feed us well, much less they take the bread out of their mouths for us to eat."

"Likewise, although what you say is true, we risk too much this time, Felix," Oswald insisted . "And if you think about making a heist again, don't count on me this time."

"Did I say we're going to do it tonight? Seriously, clean those big ears you have and learn to listen before acting." Felix sat up and stretched, holding back a big yawn. "Besides, unless they're dumb, I don't think they'll ever leave the keys at the door again."

"Yes, you're right, it would be better to keep a low profile while the caretakers are alert...To all this, what do you think those gentlemen who are here today will want?"

"Who knows, although I have heard that rich people sometimes come to look for orphans to use in their homes for different jobs and, if these prove to be efficient, they are very well treated."

"You really believe it?" Oswald murmured, looking up, watching the sun's light filter through the branches of the beech tree. "I imagine you must be very lucky for something like that to happen... Although that fox lord didn't give me much confidence when he looked at us."

"Uff, no say more: I felt like he was looking at me like an auction item than something else." Felix said nodding. At that moment, screams came to them, but they did not seem like a happy children's game.

"Hey phenomenon, meow, meow for us!"

_"Meeeooow!"_

"What the hell is going on there?" Felix asked, getting up to see better. Both boys observed a circle of children that seemed to be surrounding something or rather someone, because even amidst the screams of others, Oswald's long ears and Felix's sharp hearing caught some slight but present sounds of crying. "Maybe someone fell down and got hurt" Felix said trying to get closer, but then his face showed a surprised expression.

In the middle of the circle of children there was a big black cat with a beret with a boy much smaller than him; The cat was grabbing tight one of his long, hairy ears (in fact, they were quite larger and longer than Oswald's or any rabbit or hare), apparently enough to hurt him, because the little one was screaming and crying, trying to get away from him without success. "Hey, look how _big_ _these_ _ears_ are, hahaha!" the cat said, waving it in the air, amid some laughter from some children, making the little one cry harder.

"Hey, leave him alone, you jerk!" Felix exclaimed, trying to be heard in the middle of the small crowd, but the black cat just smiled and twisted stronger the ear of the child, "We have to warn the caregivers, Oswald!" He tried to tell his friend by turning to his side, only to notice that Oswald wasn't there. "Ozzie?"

"_Better_ you go to work in a circus!" the cat was shouting at the little boy between laughs, until a fist had crashed hard against his left cheekbone, making him scream in pain, letting go of the little boy's ear.

"Why don't you mess with someone of your size?!" Rubbing the bruise on his face, the cat with the beret opened his eyes to see who was the one who said that, noticing that it was the black rabbit, standing in front of the child still on the floor, as if he was protecting him. "Are you okay?" Oswald had asked him kindly, turning to look at him. The little one with long ears nodded, still with eyes full of tears. Then he put on a face of horror, something that Oswald, almost too late, couldn't notice: Claws had scratched his right cheek, making him recoil and feeling a lacerating pain: The cat had attacked him without his noticing.

"Don't get involved in what you don't care, rabbit!" the cat shouted at him, raising his paw again to attack him, until suddenly, Felix threw himself over his back, snorting with rage.

"So, you attack _from_ behind, huh?! Then you _won't_ mind me doing _this_!" and then he bit him on the shoulder, making him scream. The other children were shouting _"Fight, fight, fight!"_ to see the cat and the rabbit fighting furiously against the cat with the beret that was bigger than them. The little boy with the long ears was still on the ground, watching as those two unknown children were defending him, something that had never happened to him before. He wanted to help them, but he felt too small and weak... Finally, two huge hands grabbed Felix from the collar of his shirt and Oswald by the ears, making them writhe in the air. Everyone fell silent when they saw the biggest caretaker of all, a rhinoceros, staring at them harshly.

"Enough! What's happening here?! Why are you fighting?!" The black cat in the beret, who had remained on the ground, began to whimper:

"It was them, Mr. Rhino! They attacked me for _no_ reason!"

"That's not true! He was attacking that child for no reason!" Felix yelled, while at his side, Oswald's eyes were closed with the pain of being held by his ears. "My friend was defending him, and I defended him when he attacked him from behind!"

"Lie! They started!"

"Liar! You started first!"

"ENOUGH!" the rhino shouted, silencing all them. "You two will go to Mr. Balthazar's office right now! And you too, giant ears! Move!" He yelled at the little boy, who shuddered and got up, starting to follow them back to the mansion.

* * *

There were only hard wooden chairs and a rickety table in that small, bare antechamber where Oswald and Felix were thrown by the caretaker upon entering the house. Just before leaving, the rhino pushed the little boy with long ears inside, almost making him fall, before closing the door for a moment. "But what a nice guy he is," Felix muttered, rubbing his arms while Oswald rubbed his ears with his eyes closed. "Hey kid, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes..." the little one murmured looking alternately at Felix and Oswald with his huge eyes. He was really very small, with very long ears that reached almost to the ground, with thick fur and a very hairy white face. Seen him up close they didn't know if he was a cat or a rabbit. "Tha... Thank... you... s-so..." It seemed he had difficulty articulating the words.

"We already understood what you mean, and the answer is _'You're welcome'_," Oswald interrupted, still rubbing his sore ears, then he looked at him with a frown, "why was that bully bothering you?"

"Well, I... He said... That my... ears are big and I... I'm a freak" he muttered with pauses, perhaps to control the hiccups and crying, looking at the floor.

"Well... _It's _true, they're _big_." Felix said after a pause. The little boy raised his head and looked at him ruefully. Oswald was already going to argue the black cat about it, but he continued: "And _so what_? Ozzie has huge ears _too_, it seems like he could even use them to fly if he _throws _himself from the roof, so if the bully attacked you just for your ears, well, that was stupid, and he shouldn't have done it."

"Felix!" Oswald exclaimed while the little boy giggled at the joke, something that made both friends look at him. Then Oswald composed a soft smile. "Leaving that, he's _right_: he didn't have to make fun of you or hurt you, so at least the fight worth it." The little one smiled more widely. "All this aside, what's your name? I'm Oswald, and this _scoundrel _by my side is Felix."

"Ooh, oh... I-I'm ..." The little boy started to say, but then the door opened, and they saw the stern expression of Edgar Balthazar, making the child mute and the smiles of Oswald and Felix erase from their faces. Behind him, the caretaker rhino stood in the middle of the door as if he was a bodyguard.

"Mr. Rhino told me that you three were in a fight, with both of you attacking one of your companions at the same time." the director said harshly. Oswald and Felix tried to open their mouths. "_Silence_, you brats! I _don't _want to hear _excuses _for your regrettable behavior! All should be united, since you don't have _anyone _else in the world! That kind of behavior is _unjustifiable_, since that way all of you won't be honest and worthy men when grow up... _If _you're alive in that time." he added, squinting and smiling cruelly. The small one with long ears hid behind Oswald, who felt him tremble at his back, so he moved a little to hide him completely, trying to protect him. "..._And _you will imagine what must be done to correct you. _Don't reject the correction of the boy, because if you hurt him with a stick, he won't die. (2)_" he recited banging his whip against his hand, making the three children tremble, especially the smaller one, who seemed on the verge of crying again...

"Sorry to interrupt, my dear sir... But I think I _have _a solution more... _beneficial _for all," a sly voice said from behind the rhinoceros. The caretaker stepped aside, revealing that they were Mr. Worthington and his feline companion. The fox took a step forward and, taking off his patched hat and made an almost theatrical bow. "After the lovely tour you gave us and explaining who we are, I think I _can _offer an _alternative _to the classic whipping to _straighten some astray lambs_." He gave at the three children a greedy look. "_Nothing _keeps the senses and the reason so well that hard work until they get _fatigued _and finally _collapsed_... Therefore, I offer these three imps to be sent to the Stromboli factory, that needs young and strong hands like these ones... What do you think, Mr. Balthazar?" He asked the director with a salesman's smile, accompanied by a bag of coins that he pulled from the lapel of his coat. Edgar Balthazar's watery eyes gleamed with greed.

"Certainly, your points are very _logical_ and _excellent_, Lord Worthington," The director exclaimed with a smile. "I suppose in order to make this... agreement, you need paperwork about the children to give them to your boss, right?"

"No, it's not necessary, sir!" Lord Worthington replied in a casual tone. "I just need that those three imps give me their full names, my assistant will write them down and that will be enough," he added pointing to the assistant cat, who nodded energetically and took from the lapel of his old coat a small black notebook with many names crossed out as well as ink stains. "Let's start with the smallest one, the one who looks like a scared little mouse. Come on, say your name."

The little boy poked his head over Oswald's shoulder with a terrified face Before the threats of Balthazar to get the answers by blows if he didn't answer, he said softly: "Zenox... Zenox Fiamma."

_"Zenox... Fiamma." _Mr. Gideon murmured scoring with a battered black pen. "Now you, kitty."

Felix took a step forward. "What do you mean by work? What do we _have _to **_do_**?"

"Answer the question _first_, impertinent brat!" Mr. Balthazar barked, almost spitting saliva at him. Lord Worthington laughed softly.

"Come on, come on, Mr. Balthazar... you can tell he's a little kid wanting to work and make a _living_, I _like _that attitude." He took a few steps forward and composed a smile. "All of you _will _be in front of a spinning machine for about sixteen hours, you will have a fifteen minute break _once _a day, with a small snack _twice _a day and a foreman who will be _permanently _on you to prevent you from committing _ANY _error." He explained calmly, as if he was describing the weather that was doing today. Felix's white face was _paler _than ever before those words. "Now that I clarified _your _curiosity, clarify _mine_, little one."

It seemed that for a moment and for the first time, Felix had been speechless. Oswald was amazed, it was the first time he saw him nervous. When the fox asked again, he spoke almost stuttering: "Felix Pat Navidad."

"Thank you for your cooperation, little one" the fox said while his companion wrote down Felix's name. "The work dignifies the man, and the _harder _the work, the _farther _he will go... And finally, we have this rabbit. Very well, give me your name, bunny."

"Oswald Abraham Van Helsing."

A sudden silence reigned in the small room. Both the fox and the cat looked at him in disbelief, as if the black rabbit had said a blasphemy. The fox blinked. "Ehm, excuse me, child... _Did _you say that your last name is... Van Helsing?

Feeling as bewildered as they, Oswald nodded. Felix and Zenox looked at him confused. What was strange about the rabbit's last name, apart from being quite long? With an odd look on his face, Mr. Gideon wrote it down, while the fox began to ask Mr. Balthazar about it: "_No_, Lord Worthington, I don't know _anything _about that, we receives a lot of children, many times _without _any name or idea of their origin, I don't know where this boy got that name from, so I guess he invented it. Boy, your real last name, NOW!" He ordered to Oswald, who was beginning to get nervous, he _didn't _understand what was happening!

"That's my name, sir, I'm _telling _the truth! I'm Van Helsing, Oswald Van Helsing!" Oswald exclaimed looking at each adult, only seeing their expressions of disbelief. The fox approached him and rested one knee on the ground, glaring at him.

"Van Helsing? That family is _supposed _to have fallen in disgrace and got extinct years ago, and _no one _has heard from them again... And _never_, in my whole life, have I heard of _anybody _called Oswald Van Helsing." Lord Worthington said calmly, observing the consternation in the little black rabbit at those words.

Oswald was breathing hard, as if he was having an asthma attack. Felix looked at him with concern and curiosity at the same time: F_amily in disgrace? Extinguished years ago?_ Zenox didn't take off the look of the rabbit that had defended him from the bully cat. Oswald shouted again: "I'm _not _lying! That's my name, Oswald Van Helsing! Oswald Abraham Van...!" A tremendous slap cut his words. It was a brutal and painful blow. Shaking slightly and holding his hand to his bruised cheek, Oswald looked defiantly at the fox, who had one hand raised, as if he was going to slap him again.

"To have _such _an unbridled _imagination_, you _have _guts, little one... Well, the _workhouse _will _extirpate _both from you." the fox whispered coldly at Oswald's face. Then he got up and exclaimed: "_All sold!_ I offer two silver coins for Fiamma, four silver coins for Navidad and..." He paused. "Just _one _silver coin for _Van Helsing_. It's my best offer, _maese _Balthazar."

Mr. Balthazar pulled out a large brown leather book with gold covers, watching it for a moment. "I understand that some convents in Târgoviște are interested in acquiring some of our children, as well as some factories in Brăila... Let me make some Morse code calls to those places and tomorrow I will give you an answer, Lord Worthington... Although his offer It is very tempting, if I'm honest."

The sly fox's smile widened at his words. "I'll wait patiently, my lord, but it is the best _offer _the day of today, I assure you, you _won't _regret..." Giving a signal to his companion, the cat came forward and gave him a piece of paper. "This is our address to deliver our three new apprentices tomorrow."

"_It's _a deal." Mr. Balthazar finally said, shaking the hands of Mr. Worthington and Mr. Gideon before the face of fear of Zenox, the face of anger of Oswald and the face of consternation of Felix, as if he wished that an abyss would open at that moment under their feet and it would _swallow _all three.

**…**

Zenox stared at the narrow window where a timid ray of sunlight managed to sneak through the dirty glass. With deep sadness, he watched the swallows flutter and move away to the rooftops. He looked down and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his extremely large shirt. He didn't want to cry anymore, but the knot in his throat was getting _stronger_. In another situation, with him like this, his roommates would be mocking at him... But at that moment in the room was just him... And those two kids who had defended him: Oswald and Felix. Everyone else was outside, taking advantage of the visit of the fox and the cat to play under the sun. The laughter and shouts of the children felt so distant, even hearing so clearly... It was hard to believe that he would stop hearing those laughs in less than twelve hours, when they were taken to the outskirts of the Stromboli workhouse.

At that time, the mankind had managed to _incorporate_ the strength of the hands with the strength of technology, making great advances in science and the economy for many countries... but _extinguishing_ the lives of hundreds, especially children. The factories and mines employed thousands of children from poor homes or directly from orphanages, with the excuse of using them as "_apprentices_", to then give them work conditions that were literally slavery: Fourteen, sixteen, eighteen... _Up_ to twenty-four hours in a row, renewing the workers template every twelve hours (3), in rooms full of smoke, with their languid eyes following the monotonous process of the machine or sinking their thighs in the water to collect charcoal, trying to stay awake with the whip of the foremen, with ridiculously short breaks and followed with terrible food and accidents, so it wasn't uncommon the day ending with broken bones, amputations or with them becoming half idiots, _swallowed_ by the _Plutocracy_ in the end... That would be _end_ of the history of Oswald and his companions, still too _brief_ and already too _bitter_.

Felix had explained that to them thanks to what he had heard from other children before arriving at the orphanage, and now he was looking down at the floor, absent-mindedly drawing abstract figures with the dust of the floor, sometimes staring at Oswald, who had curled up like a ball in the nearest bed, hugged himself, lost in his thoughts and in the words of Lord Worthinton that mingled with the warm hands of his mother, the laughter of his father and the hostile expressions of the badger family.

...Oswald certainly doesn't understand: Why the fox had said that his family was "extinct" (He didn't even understand what that word meant) and a couple of years before the Badger family spoke perfectly about them, even with a disdain who he never understood? It was a mystery, although Oswald had to admit that his own family was an even bigger mystery. He knew almost nothing, he had no answers, he didn't even know if he had another family _other_ than his mama and papa. He never had brothers; he never met an old man who could say "grandpa"... He didn't even know where his old house was, to begin with. He only had his last name, a last name apparently cursed before the eyes of others: Helsing, Van Helsing... Oswald closed his eyes and rocked himself slightly, trying to evoke uselessly the face of his mother.

* * *

"Oswald. Oswald, wake up."

"Humm, five more minutes, mommy..." the rabbit murmured with his eyes still closed trying to get away from the hand that was shaking his shoulder, until he felt the hand again, this time stronger, making him sit up angrily. "_Don't_ bother me, Fe...!" But Oswald fell silent when he saw the scared little face of Zenox, who had stepped back. "Zenox, please forgive me, I didn't want to yell at you!" He exclaimed ruefully, lowering his eyes. "It's _just_... that..."

"I know. We already understood what you mean," Zenox murmured, imitating what Oswald had told him before. Oswald gave him a weak smile in response. Suddenly Felix approached them, surprisingly having two apples in his hands. "You came back, Felix!" Zenox chirped, running towards him. The cat handed him an apple between his small hands and threw the other one towards Oswald, who caught it in the air, looking at him with surprise.

"_Where_ were you and where did you _get_ this?" Oswald growled, seriously thinking about throwing at him the fruit back, but this time aiming at his head. The black cat made a smile as sad as his, watching Zenox nibble on his apple.

"I was on the roof; I needed some air. And those apples I plucked from a tree that is right on the edge of the garden and that faces the street... And in fact, I noticed something _curious_, Ozzie."

"_Something_ curious? Did you lose one of your famous seven lives by falling from the apple tree?" Oswald asked sarcastically. Felix rolled his eyes.

"No, bunny. I already know how we can _avoid_ our destiny." The black cat replied simply. There was a long pause of five seconds.

_"…What?"_

"As you hear. I don't know what you're thinking, but I don't intend to lose my _supposedly_ seven lives in a factory where I know that on the first day, I can lose them all in one fell swoop," Felix muttered hugging himself, looking at the window. "...If I can choose how to lose them, I'd prefer to lose them away from here, and that is... _out there_."

"So, are you going to... _Escape_ from here?" Oswald whispered, staring at him, his eyes wide, like Zenox. "But... Where would you _go_?"

"Do ya want an honest answer? I don't know, long ears." the black cat replied making a face. "The _only_ thing I have clear is that I won't end locked in that place. If I have to die, I'd rather do that on the street than in a machine or a deep pit... " He paused and looked directly into his eyes. "That's my decision... I don't know what you will _do_."

Oswald was silent, looking at the bright red apple between his fingers. His mind was now total chaos: He knew that a horrible and desolate fate awaited them if they were taken to the Workhouse. But if they fled from there to the streets, they would have to face the cold, the hunger, the absence of a mattress to sleep or a roof to shelter from rain and snow... It was also a desolate panorama, but... At this moment, what other option did they have? He recalled the last words of the fox: _"Well, the workhouse will extirpate both from you..."_ In a fit of rage and rebellion, Oswald took the apple to his lips and gave him a fierce bite: They had been taught that for an _apple_, Adam and Eve had disobeyed God, giving them a lesson of always obeying authority, represented by them... Well, not anymore. Felix was right: If he had to choose where to lose his seven lives, it was much better out there, in that _mad world_ that the orphanage and the caretakers had tried to show them as a _terrible_ and _cruel_ place for helpless children like them.

"Ozzie" he felt a small hand pulling at the sleeve of his shirt. Oswald looked down, noticing the tearful face of the little Zenox, still holding the apple between his little fingers. "Ozzie, wherever you go, I'll go too... _I'm with you."_ he murmured looking down... Then he looked up at seeing Oswald taking one of his hands, squeezing it, giving him a firmer smile and full of determination. From the window, Felix uncrossed his arms and approached them, now with a smile from ear to ear.

"We will escape. _Together_." Oswald said to him. The afternoon advanced with an absurd slowness, bathing the room with a soft golden bath. There, Felix explained what they had to do.

...

The small church nearby began to let out its thunderous bells in the air, announcing six o'clock in the afternoon and therefore, the end of the working day for many of the inhabitants, whom returned exhausted from the fields or the workshops to their homes. They heard the cries of the caregivers calling the children who were still playing outside, telling them that if they didn't enter, they would be locked out in the outdoor... One by one, they saw them enter inside, while a couple of caretakers watched them: Their opportunity.

Felix led Oswald and Zenox to the roof, taking advantage of one of the windows in his bedroom that had a stone edge outside. Felix, jumping first, gave Zenox his hand and helped him to go outside, with him holding Oswald's hand. The edge barely exceeded ten centimeters in diameter, so they were practically on tiptoe. The fresh air hit them in the faces, making them hit the wall. The cat pointed with his hand to his left, where there was a gargoyle-shaped rainwater drainage. Slowly, the three children groped their way, still clinging to the wall and holding hands to keep their balance. Zenox swallowed when he saw the dizzying height to which they were, because although the building had only two floors, the probability of dying from a fall was _strong_, especially when he saw the bushes of thorny brambles on the ground... Once, he had heard a macabre joke that the caretakers had planted the brambles for that the one who try to escape or take his own life would go to the Hell _full_ of _bleeding_ _holes_ in their fur... He closed his eyes and kept going. Oswald also had his eyes closed because the height had caused him some vertigo, while concentrating on any noise other than the whistling wind... Then, Felix exclaimed:

"Come up!" The gargoyle was next to one of the corners of the roof. Felix had already climbed over it and had jumped to the edge of the roof with relative ease. Then he had stretched his hand to help Zenox climb, since his small size preventing his from jumping, and finally Oswald jumped directly from the edge without using the gargoyle as an impulse, and although he had managed to reach the ceiling, his legs were literally on the edge, making him almost lose his balance... If it wasn't because Zenox grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him away from the edge. "Hey Oswald, we _don't_ have time to _brag_." Felix replied, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"Thank you, Zenox," Oswald muttered, rubbing the little boy's ears, totally ignoring the black cat. Then he got up: From there they could see the wooden and straw roofs of the houses, bathed in the last rays of the afternoon sun. He had to admit; it was a very beautiful sight. Then he heard the sound of a double door closing: The other children had already entered! "Where's the tree, Felix?"

"Over here, come," said the black cat, approaching the western corner of the roof, where the branch of an old apple tree was visible. Oswald and Zenox looked at the cat in disbelief: Would that branch support the weight of the three? Apparently, Felix had read their thought, because he replied: "If we pass one by one the branch won't yield, because I already tried when I reached the apples." And after saying that, he climbed the branch, stretching his arms as if he was playing at being a bird. Before the face of astonishment of the others, the claws of Felix sank in the trunk. He turned to look at them, winked at them and, hugging the trunk, began to descend, using the nearby branches to support his feet, until he reached the ground, staying on the other side of the black bars. Oswald and Zenox looked at him impressed. He _really_ did it! He _really_ was _outside_ the orphanage! Feeling brave, Zenox slid down the branch, imitating the movement of arms that Felix had made. Oswald also started walking along the branch and with outstretched arms, concentrating on keeping his balance. Finally, both friends were hugging the tree trunk and looked down: Felix gave them his usual thumbs-up sign and told them to hurry. They both nodded and Zenox started down, hugging as close as he could to the tree, until he slips and fell, screaming with fear. However, Felix reacted by running towards him and managing to catch him before he hit the ground. Oswald, still clinging to the trunk, sighed in relief. "Oswald, we'll be in this corner, because I'm afraid that with that scream someone can come out and see us!" Felix exclaimed in anguish, pointing to his right with one hand and holding Zenox's hand with the other. "Hurry!" and then they ran.

Realizing he had little time, Oswald started down the tree trunk, something extremely difficult since he had no claws to cling to it ... Suddenly the light coming from one of the windows of the orphanage dazzled him for a moment, noticing the shadow of an adult behind it, hidden by a curtain. Frightened, Oswald reacted by letting himself fall to the ground and trying to land on his feet, barely managing it, because on impact one of his ankles twisted, causing a sharp pain that rose up his back, paralyzing him for the moment. Breathing hard, Oswald hobbled to the corner that Felix had pointed out, unable to recognize anything around him. Then screams alerted him: Felix and Zenox waved their hands in front of the portico of a house that was next to a lamppost, so he walked to them. Zenox looked ruefully at Oswald's twisted way of walking and muttered an apology for screaming.

"I'll be fine, don't worry." Oswald assured him, forcing a smile, for the pain was persistent. "We have to get away from here."

Leaning on the shoulders of Felix and Zenox, Oswald walked to an unknown point of that city, amid the lights that began to appear both in the houses and in the street, amid the sharp whistling of the wind, among the passers-by, with _nothing_ _more_ than his desire not to continue rotting in a depressing orphanage or wanting to die a thousand times locked in a factory... With _nothing_ _more_ than the friendship created in the _middle_ of coincidences and misfortune.

_To be continued._

**Notes:**

**(1) **_Proverbs 12:22_

**(2) **_Proverbs 23:13_

**(3) **The period of the Industrial Revolution was marked by the use of practically enslaved child labor. During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, a large number of children worked in the factories and coal mines, forced to work between twelve and fifteen hours every day of the week. They didn't eat properly, they were in an environment full of danger and dirt, they couldn't go to school or play because they spent long hours working.


	4. Junk Mountain

**IV**

_Junk mountain.  
_

He awoke to the sound of the cold raindrops against the ceiling. He settled in better, trying to make sure that the rough floor beneath him didn't have any pebbles that would fuck his back. He felt a small body sticking closer to his and turned his gaze: Zenox was sleeping curled up on his shoulder. Beside the cabbit, Felix was rolled up like a ball; none had been awakened by the sudden rain of dawn on the canvas roof of the open space where they took refuge at night... It had been a blessing to find that place, especially after two nights in a row sleeping in an alley in the center of the city. It was cold and almost dark inside, but at least it was dry.

It's amazing how everything can change in an instant. At one time they had been under the roof of a hostile institution, suffering hunger and struggling against the caretakers... And now they were in the outside world, much bigger, much wider and, of course, much more hostile.

At least... He wasn't alone in this: When he contemplated the soft breathing of Zenox and the drowned snores of Felix, he couldn't help but smile: He wasn't alone.. A few months ago there were three strangers among a hundred children in that orphanage... And now they were together in suffering, in the shortcomings and in the uncertainty of what could happen the next day. Oswald moved again, this time with his back fully turned, hoping that the faint rattle of the rain would push him back to the world of dreams... That place where every _unlucky _child, from the beginning of time, takes refuge looking for a brief escape to the grim reality.

Just as friendships can be formed through time and in the middle of roads, they can also be formed in the midst of misfortune. Affection, like a morning glory or a vine, grows and surrounds the desired object, no matter what it is... That's what happened with Oswald, Felix and Zenox. Now that they no longer had the restrictive silences of the orphanage, they had time to talk, at any time, rom dawn to late at night if they fancied. The three had recognized that, since their escape from the orphanage, they had had time to know about the others everything they hadn't been able to know after the short presentation of each new orphaned child to the others in the orphanage.

Felix, as far as he could remember, hadn't been born in Romania, but had come with his mother from another place where, according to him, "is where people expect to be trampled by bulls for fun", ignoring who his father was. He remembered that they had lived in different houses, from basements or garrets to a stinking shed on a farm, until his mother, suffering from an illness that covered her entire body with horrid purple pustules (1), had ordered him to look for water from a river and when he returned, his mother had died. While he was crying before his mother's corpse, a bear had told him to leave with him, ending up in the orphanage a few days later.

Zenox was the one who remembered the least where he was born. He only knew that he had been surrounded by parents who had loved him, but that they had to move constantly in the countryside, until they, one day, when entering a city, had left Zenox at the gate of a building that had a tower and an immense bell, a church, telling him to stay there, that they will look for him later... but they never came back. Zenox was waiting for hours, crying in anguish, waiting in vain, until a sacristan appeared in the door and dragged him inside of the church, spending the night there and waiting for his parents to arrive... once again in vain. The next day they put him on a cart and took him to the orphanage.

After receiving so many questions about his family, Oswald was as honest as he could with his friends: He didn't understand why the strange animosity to his family's surname; He told them that, although they used to leave him with their neighbors to go on a trip, his parents were kind and lovely people, that he lived in a big house with a garden full of bushes... But everything had collapsed when the news arrived: their parents had died, and he would go to a shelter of abandoned children, confused and frightened. After a couple of weeks he was taken along with several children to the Sighisoara orphanage.

That way they had ended up there, three stories that had started _differently _and had been _channeled _into _one _point, like three distant channels of a river.

After spending the first night sleeping in front of a tavern's door and then retiring at a rooster's sound at dawn, the trio of friends decided to explore the surroundings of what would be their new "home": They had never seen so many legs walking, so many shoes, so many wagons with horses passing in front of them, so many voices speaking at the same time, many with haste and others with indifference. But almost none of the people around noticed what was happening around them, much less they could notice three small children with dirty clothes and a bewildered look. When they had tried to get their attention, nobody answered them; they just kept walking to their different destinations, without even turning to look at them. Very soon, Oswald, Felix and Zenox had understood that people were too used to vagabonds and beggars to notice them... And they knew it thanks to the large number of them in the streets: Big and small, cripples and paralytics, agile young people and old ones... children piled up in portals, children with languid gazes and emaciated bodies... children like just them. In this way they understood that not only was there begging, but competition within it.

After spending the day wandering around to get to know the extensions of the place, the three little ones established three daily goals: Search for food, find where to sleep every night... And avoid problems of any kind.

After spending the day wandering around to get to know the extensions of the place, the three little ones established three daily goals: Find food, find where to sleep every night... And avoid problems of any kind. They knew that it would be difficult to find a place to rest and take shelter from rain and snow, especially in many alleys and corners, already occupied by other beggars, whom throwed at them glances of all kinds: From hostile glances accompanied by phrases like: "this place is already busy, find another place and get the fuck out of here"... and sinister glances accompanied by phrases such as: "What cute children... come and we warm up each other together... Come, come...". In any case, the three little ones felt fearful and retired in a hurry, getting as far away as possible from there. Soon they understood that, just as they would have to fight to survive, they also had to fight for a piece of aged cardboard or for some filthy pieces of cloth.

The streets of Sighisoara had a clearly neglected appearance, especially in the downtown area and to the south. The walls of the buildings were blackened in some of them oozing moisture. From day one, the three children learned to be alert to the signal of a window opening, because it could mean a pot throwing out food scraps that could take... Or rather, a shower of disgusting waste, urine, feces and black water falling on their heads if they didn't move in time. Soon they avoided the alleys that acted as a separation between houses and buildings, since they are almost always covered by a soft mattress of feces... Finally, they had found a clearing full of pieces of wood and cloth from which, between Oswald and Felix, they could build a sort of tent to be able to curl up among the three at night, especially if it was cold.

Oswald opened his eyes again when he heard that the rain had begun to wane. Once again, he had tried in vain to evoke the face of his mother or his father, making it increasingly difficult for him... He was already beginning to fear that a time would come when he couldn't remember them completely. When that day came... what would happen? He didn't want to know; he didn't want to get to that day... He felt a slight whimper at his side: Zenox was having a nightmare. Oswald sighed quietly and stroked the cabbit's long ears in an attempt to appease his fears, even for a moment. He settled closer to his friends in search of more heat. Soon they would have to find more threadbare blankets and pieces of cloth to incorporate into their "bed": In a few months' autumn would begin.

He would wait a few more hours, when the rain stopped, or the call of hunger began to return to explore... Mainly the for the second reason.

**...**

It was almost mid-morning when the hunger forced them to explore. It had stopped raining a few moments ago, so it felt a nice coolness in the air... As well as large puddles of muddy water in the cobblestone streets. The small Zenox couldn't avoid jumping on one of them, falling a few drops on Felix, making him snort and jump in surprise, causing the apology by the cabbit, as well as Oswald's laughs.

They continued walking until they reached the center of the town, where the market was: It was a large rectangular square, with a large water fountain in the middle that expulse tremulous jets of water into the light of day. The place was completely full and there was a constant flow of people walking. Around there were many shopkeepers offering a variety of vegetables, meat, fruits and grains among huge sacks, making the air saturated with the smell. The three friends watched with their mouths drooling and their stomachs crying with rage at the sight of those steaming pieces of pork, chicken and fish, those sausages and big cheeses, those rows of fresh vegetables... so close and yet so far away from them. Instead, the three children slid to the back of the square, where in a corner there was a small mountain made up of broken wooden boxes... As well with pieces of food: Every so often, some of the shopkeepers would throw sacks of food or they throw them from a wheelbarrow; however, it was ripe fruit, dried vegetables, green potatoes, old tubers, rotten eggs and meat and fish that smelled bad.

For _them_, that was the moment of the feast.

Every moment there were beggars and vagabonds poking around in that little pile, trying to keep the best booties, that is, what could still be edible. They were grabbing what they could, hiding it in their pockets or in small bags of cloth that they also found lying around, and then moved away from there before others tried to take it away. Sometimes several of them could be seen hitting their faces for a piece of black bread or a stale ham with the same ferocity with which the vultures did with the pieces of rotten meat around them. It was a sad spectacle to see children who weren't more than four or five years old digging through the garbage to find a piece of decent food, taking it and eating it quickly to prevent someone bigger than them could taking it first. The crows were fluttering among them to take any crumbs, in the air there was a penetrating smell of burnt garbage and black smoke... This was the place where Oswald, Felix and Zenox had found to placate the hunger of the first days on the street.

It hadn't been easy to get to it: After a couple of days wandering around and trying in vain to get the attention of any passer-by for something, be it a coin or a piece of food, to the point that Zenox had started to cry of hunger and even Oswald thought that perhaps it wouldn't have been so terrible to be taken to the factory if that at least meant a piece of bread to the mouth, Felix noticed some children about his age and equally ragged like them that were running in direction to the north, so he urged his friends to follow them to see where they was taking them. Suspicious, the black rabbit and the orange cabbit accompanied the black cat to follow those children, until they reached the big market square where, at the same time they were stunned by all the food that was being sold, they watched in amazement like those children who they had followed now they were approaching that pile of abandoned boxes and they were bringing out nothing less than pieces of potatoes, carrots and even dried meat. Was there food and their full scope? Unable to believe it, the three children waited for those beggars to leave to try their luck.

...It was certainly an _unpleasant _surprise to discover that much of that food that was in that corner was old and almost spoiled; After been eating flour porridge that although they were horrible, at least they didn't seem been taken them out of a dump... This was a demeaning change for anyone, but in those circumstances the least the three friends could do was complain... Just look for the least bad pieces and survive, survive another day until their destinies could take another course.

Finally, they had reached the pile and started digging, scraping pieces of old rotten wood, trying to find something worthwhile. While Zenox and Felix searched, Oswald stood guard behind them, glancing from time to time, hoping no one would attack them or take away their possible booty of today. Suddenly, Zenox gave a shout of joy: He had got a bunch of five pretty yellowish bananas, almost brown, but as they didn't smell bad, surely, they were still edible.

"Ozzie, Felix, look what I found! With this we can eat!"

"Well done, little boy." Felix congratulated him giving him a pat on the back, while Oswald smiled at them, turning to see them. "I found a half-bitten apple; I think with this we can..."

"...Giving that to us without any problem, kitten." Suddenly a raspy voice spoke behind them. Oswald turned at once, noticing a group of dogs looking at them menacingly. Zenox began to tremble, clinging to the bananas, so Felix stood in front of him, with his claws flexed.

"Ah no, pal. We came first. There's plenty of food in the pile." The one who had spoken, a gray dog with an athletic build, just laughed at him.

"And why waste time digging in that mountain of rubbish if we already have it within our reach?" the dog asked with mocking tone. The other dogs, all of different sizes, let out a collective laugh.

"Very good joke, Tramp! Really very good!"

"So, if you're smart, little ones, y'all leave these pieces you found, and we'll go. Something very simple to fulfill and... " He paused, wiping one of his big fangs with his claw, managing to intimidate the three children, especially Zenox. "... And nobody will be hurt."

"That's not fair, it's our food, it cost us to get it!" Oswald exclaimed annoyed. The dogs laughed again, this time with more desire, as if the rabbit had said a great joke.

"And what is life _but unfair_, bunny? You really have to live the streets, _rookie_" Tramp snapped at him sarcastically, getting closer to them. "No doubt y'all look like little children whom their mothers left behind... Have they been lost, kids...?"

And suddenly a stone hit him full in the snout. The dog howled in pain, holding his nose with his front legs... Perplexed, Oswald turned a few seconds and saw Felix wielding a rock next to a terrified Zenox. Tramp and his minions snarled, preparing to jump on the three little ones and rip their jugular, so Oswald crouched quickly and grabbing a handful of earth, shouted: "Run!" And he threw dirt into the face of Tramp and the other dogs, causing Felix and Zenox to run off, with Oswald following close behind them, running around the square, with the dogs chasing them with their jaws uncovered, wanting to skin them alive.

Felix ran terrified, grabbing Zenox by the arm and dragging him, preventing them from asking to separate them and catch them more easily. While trying not to stumble and holding the bunch of bananas, Zenox throw terrified glances over his shoulder, hoping that the dogs weren't right behind them, but above all hoping to see Oswald. Where he was? Could it be that they had caught him? They left the square and ran down an alley waiting to get to their refuge in the clearing, but they knew they had to lose them. Felix and Zenox turned around and saw Tramp getting closer and closer to them. Felix, desperate, noticing that he still had the apple, didn't think twice and he threw it backwards, hitting Tramp again on the snout, making him stop for a moment. At that moment, the black cat noticed a staircase that led to a window, opportunity for salvation! Felix pulled Zenox up the stairs, jumping with agility and starting "Quick, come up!" He yelled at Zenox extending his hand to the small cabbit on the floor, which was trying to reach the metal bar with one hand. He finally reached the bar, but was about to let go, so he had no choice but to drop the bunch of bananas he had so protected and start climbing, just when Tramp had jumped on him, landing on the ground. Still trembling, Zenox climbed up to where Felix was, looking apprehensive and helplessly as Tramp took the bunch of bananas and gave them a hard look:

"We had to resort to this so that y'all gave me what belongs to me? And I have you marked, as I see y'all again in my place, I eat y'all for dessert." And he left where he came, leaving Felix boiling with rage and Zenox on the verge of tears.

"Those idiots won't get away with it!" Felix hissed angrily, but his expression softened at the sight of Zenox's watery eyes, perhaps thinking that the cat would scold him for dropping the food they had gotten with effort. Apparently, the black cat read his thoughts, because he patted his back with a conciliatory gesture. "I'd rather lose a bunch of rotten bananas than you, little one."

"Than... Thank you, Felix," muttered the cabbit, wiping his eyes. "So, what can we do now?"

The black cat let out a tired sigh. "It's not worth returning to the square if those guys are still there... Better we should look for Oswald."

"Do you think he will be fine, have they caught him?" Zenox asked in fear as they went down the stairs to return to the street. Felix made a worried expression, then gave him a weak smile.

"Long Ears will be _clueless _but he's _not _a fool. I'm sure he won't let himself get caught... But we better go."

They circled the square from outside but didn't enter it, walking carefully in case Tramp and the other dogs were nearby. Zenox had his eyes closed, praying with all his might that Oswald was fine ... And apparently the gods above listened to him, because a whistle made him open his eyes scared, thinking it would be the dogs again, but it was Oswald himself, approaching to them, holding an elongated bundle under his shirt.

"Are you alright? I saw that that dog chased them down that street, but at that moment the other dogs were following me," Oswald said, looking at Felix and Zenox, breathing hard. "Didn't he hurt both of you?"

"He almost grabbed us, but we were saved, although we had to leave behind the food we got," Felix said, sighing and kicking at a rock on the ground. "So now we are without anything."

"I don't understand why he did that, if we got it first," Zenox mused in a rueful tone. "It's not fair."

Oswald looked at him with regret, remembering with bitterness the lapidary phrase said by Tramp: 'And what is life, but unfair?' And indeed, it was: Life was unfair, and it was unfair for long time with them... Then he remembered what he had done, and the rabbit gave him a smile, surprising Zenox and causing Felix to raise his eyebrows.

"Let's go Zenox, let's go to our lair. I will show y'all something."

* * *

It started raining again when they reached the corner that led to the ramp, so Oswald ran to enter the shelter first, followed by Zenox and Felix, whom came in confused. Inside, they saw that the black rabbit sat on the old rags that served as bed for them and he was smiling at them in the gloom. Felix ran the large piece of canvas that acted as a door and looked at him suspiciously.

"Okay, long ears: _shoot_." The rabbit, still smiling, pulled out what was under his shirt.

Felix was speechless. Zenox gasped and then exclaimed happily: "Food!"

"Here you are, Zenox." Oswald said, breaking the great French bread he had in his hands in three pieces, with the little cabbit receiving his part with trembling fingers and beginning to eat it almost with desperation. "Hey, slowly, you can choke yourself."

"Thank you very much, Oswald!" Zenox moaned with his mouth so full of bread that it was quite an achievement that he could make any sound. Oswald just smiled and handed the other piece to Felix after taking his.

"Are you going to stay there with _that _face all night or are you going to eat, Navidad?"

"I thought you would never say it," Felix mumbled taking his piece and chewing a big piece in his mouth. "God, this is exquisite, practically fresh! How the hell did you get it, Ozzie?" Oswald, who was apparently self-absorbed eating his piece of bread, swallowed and looked at him with a serious expression. The black cat raised his eyebrows. "I know that look... What did you do?"

"When we separated for those damn dogs, I got into a street that apparently had some stores, I was hiding behind a wall hoping that the dogs hadn't followed me... I waited and there was no one, then I felt something... It was a smell that came to my nose... It was so delicious that without thinking I got up and followed it to an open window: I looked out and saw something incredible: many breads, fresh breads! The smell was stronger and then I saw that there was someone, a blond and somewhat fat man who was with his head inside an oven, so he wasn't looking... So... "

"So you _remembered _our old days?" Felix asked with malice. Oswald glared at him.

"I heard a woman calling him from another room. The man stuck his head out with a tray of long loaves and said "I'm coming, Anastasia" and left, leaving the loaves alone, I didn't think, I just jumped inside. I had never seen so many loaves of bread in my life, so I grabbed one of the loaves and left again, maybe he noticed, because I heard someone shouting behind me but I didn't stop, I just ran... " Oswald muttered looking at his piece of bread, then he heard a dry giggle.

"Not bad for having done it alone, long ears. Maybe I can surpass it: where was that bakery you found? Maybe I'll get lucky and get two loaves this time."

"Felix, are you being _serious_?" Oswald asked sternly. The black cat suddenly released a bitter laugh that mixed with a dull thunder that reverberated in the distance.

"Well, I don't think there's another option... Tramp's gang has us in our sights: If we go back to the market square, they'll hang us by the ears." Felix said with emphasis, causing Zenox to grab his long ears with fear. "And _nobody _wants to give us anything, charity is already _overpopulated_... It's that or return to the orphanage or stay here and die of hunger."

Oswald was silent, watching the irritating smile of his friend, then he contemplated the expectant expression of the small Zenox, still with his cheeks swollen by the bread. Then he sighed... Edgar Balthazar's words resounded in his head like an iron bell: the thieves wouldn't go to heaven, that's what adults in the orphanage said, but... He squeezed his half-finished piece of bread until it was half undone between his fingers.

**...**

The next day they got up early to go back to the streets in search of a new booty. This time they were looking for any store or stall who could offer some kind of food. Whether it was a bakery or a fishery, anything that could fill their stomachs. They were constantly on the alert, hoping to see some target that was sufficiently unprotected ... And where there weren't those men in dark uniforms who constantly patrolled the streets, always armed with long sticks, some on foot and others on horseback, always looking at people with an abstracted expression and when it was a ragged or beggar like them, a cold and hard look that intimidated them.

Oswald and his friends didn't know who these dark-uniformed men were or what they were doing, but there was no doubt that they had power, because when one of them ordered something to a shopkeeper or merchant, they obeyed them immediately... It was somewhat disconcerting for the three children, whom had never seen anything like it. (_"Even I could say to that baker pig there to give me all his cream cakes and he would do that."_ Felix said pointing to a bakery they were visiting to see if it was a possible target), and for that reason, the children tried to get away from them and their sticks.

After going through several streets without getting anything, the three children thought to give up on that occasion and look in a dumpster for something that could be eaten yet, when Zenox began to pull Oswald's sleeve, pointing something with great emotion: The black rabbit looked forward and saw something beautiful: On the sill of the tall window of an old-style house, there was what appeared to be a cake. And their delicious smell came, tenuous, came towards them, attracting them like moths to the fire.

"Do ya think the _same _as me, long ears?"

"_Yes_... but it looks very high, I don't think I can reach it by jumping." Oswald said, frowning, as the three of them approached the brick wall where the cake was above. The window looked out on a street that was empty at the time, so if they could try something, they should do it now. Felix snorted impotently: There it was, attractive, with its bright colors and its red cherries saying _**"Take me, take me"**_... But Oswald was right: The window was too tall to jump, even for a cat like him. In that, Zenox claps his hands.

"Oh, Oswald, Felix, what if... And if we got on top of each other to take it?"

Felix and Oswald looked at each other and then looked at the wall. After a few seconds, the black cat looked at the orange cabbit with a mischievous smile: "I see that what you lack in size, you compensate in ingenuity, little one" Zenox giggled in response. "Quick, let's do it." Oswald crouched down, then Felix climbed on his back, and finally Zenox, with the three of them forming a precarious and trembling little tower, which stayed stuck to the wall. "Now!" At that signal, Oswald flexed his knees and straightened slightly, making Zenox tried to extend his hands to the cake.

"A little more... A _little _more..." Zenox moaned, stretching his little fingers to try to reach the precious treasure, still without success. "Come on!" And stretched a little more. Oswald had his eyes tightly closed, his knees were shaking under all that weight and at any moment he was going to collapse. He prayed that he would get it, he was almost at his limit...

"_Hey you!_"

The cry of an old woman frightened Oswald, who without thinking started to run, still carrying Felix and Zenox on his back, and Zenox had managed to seize the tray with the cake at the last second. Zenox looked around and saw an old woman who was sticking her head out of the window and shouting angrily in their direction ("Thieves, thieves! Go after them!"), causing some of the people passing by to notice in them, starting to scream too. Scared, the children, now with the cat and the cabbit on the ground, started to run towards one of the neighboring streets in order to disappear in one of them, feeling footsteps behind them: Some of them were chasing them.

"Darn, they're going to catch us!" Felix screamed, looking back for a moment: There were two men in blue uniforms running with their sticks behind them. Panting, the three children ran to the end of the alley, noticing that they had reached a blind spot on the street. They were trapped!

"Oh no, what now?!" Zenox moaned, clutching the cake and shaking from head to toe. The three little ones turned around and saw terrified that the two men in blue were getting closer to them and with an unfriendly face...

...Suddenly, a sudden explosion shook everyone there, followed by several bursts and small explosions that began to be heard throughout the blind spot. Oswald and his friends were frightened and perplexed, where did that come from? In that instant, a deformed green being with fangs came out of a corner and jumped on them, landing on the men in blue, making them scream in surprise and pain.

"Here!"

A sudden voice was heard from the other side of the alley, something that Oswald managed to hear in the middle of all that fuss. What could that have been? Then, the voice was heard again, this time louder:

"Hey, you three, come here, quick!"

Without thinking, Oswald grabbed Felix and Zenox, who were still there petrified and fascinated watching the strange green being attacking the men in blue uniforms, apparently forgetting completely that they were escaping from them in the first place. The black rabbit dragged them to the source of the voice, reaching a tiny alley covered with garbage cans and wooden boxes. The children stopped, looking at several directions, until the voice was heard once more: "Here, quick!"

Immediately and without thinking, Oswald, Felix and Zenox scurried behind the boxes and containers, just as another burst was felt, causing Oswald to turn back: Now in front of the creature of green were a huge duck with a big build and muscular, they wore a dark red coat, boots and a white scarf, although the most striking of its appearance was a hat with googles. Suddenly, the duck threw an object out of his hand and it exploded in contact with the strange creature, making it scream in pain, then collapsing, and after that the duck pulled a rope and tied quickly, immobilizing it completely... Oswald observed all that in a matter of seconds, terrified and fascinated.

"Get down!"

And a hand grabbed him from behind his shirt, pulling him down, making him duck. Oswald turned and opened his mouth to ask who it was, but a hand covered his mouth. The hand connected with a thin man with long black hair tied in a ponytail, who wore a blue vest over a white shirt. Oswald tried to break free of his grip.

"I won't hurt you, follow me if you want to keep your necks and that cake you guys have there." the man whispered, pushing his hand away from Oswald's mouth and pointing behind him, where the deepest part of the alley was. Oswald hesitated, looking for a moment at Felix and Zenox, who looked just as undecided as he was... They can follow him or being caught by the men in blue suits or being in the crossfire of that mysterious duck... With no other options, Oswald, Felix and Zenox followed the man, hearing the triumphant screams of the duck behind them.

Who would that strange being be? And why was that mysterious duck chasing him?

* * *

The man, who introduced himself as Flynn Ryder, served them a pewter jug full of water, which the three children drank to the last drop after being convinced that it wasn't poisoned water or anything like that. His "lair" was a small room with a single window closed with boards, a cot and little else. "My castle, my lordship, the lair of the great Ryder," the man said languidly, his arm encompassing the entire gloomy interior. "But it's not a big deal."

"Thank you very much for helping us" Felix muttered sighing after that necessary sip of water. "They almost grabbed us by the ears if it were not for you and for that duck... Who was that guy, by the way?"

"That guy? Bah, he's a hunter." Flynn Ryder said in a bored tone. Then he raised his eyebrows at the confused faces of the three children. "Did I say a joke or what?"

"What is a hunter, sir?" Zenox asked with a face to understand nothing. The man stared at them in bewilderment, then cleared his throat.

"You really don't know? Wow, y'all probably escaped from some closed convent that not even a fly got in. Hunters are guys that get rid of monsters, creatures like that green being you just saw... Creatures that appear from time to time to _fuck _people... Well, hunters take care that beings like that _don't _fuck around again."

"It sounds like an interesting job," Felix muttered enthusiastically, opinion shared by Zenox... Oswald, however, was silent, seeming to have stopped listening to him.

"Interesting? Bah, they risk their necks and their ass many times but people don't like them very much... Many times hunters _share _the seat of the _gravediggers_, the _executioners _and the _whores_: They are necessary, but people prefer them _far away_.

"_Why?_" Oswald asked suddenly, startling both Felix and Zenox: The rabbit had been quiet for quite some time. "Don't they do a favor by defeating the bad monsters? Before I've always seen them being called and they're constantly traveling to get rid of them."

Flynn Ryder looked at him suspiciously. "To be a brat ya know _something _about hunters... _Why_, did you grow up with them?"

"Well..." Oswald hesitated, but when he saw the expectant faces of Felix and Zenox, he sighed. "My dad and my mom were hunters."

"They _were_... so they're _not here _anymore," Flynn pointed out with the same sharp suspicion. Oswald clenched his mouth and nodded, unable to deny it anymore. "I'm sorry... it's _not _a pleasant life, the truth, although it's not for _anyone_, if you want my opinion."

"What is life, _but _unfair?" Oswald muttered, looking at the ground. His two friends were silent, remembering those harsh words. Flynn Ryder grunted in agreement taking a knife and with it began to carve a piece of wood that he had in his pocket.

"For _nobody_, so it's better to take advantage of what you can... As I see you did with that cake of there."

"Yes, and _it's _ours." Oswald said with sudden ferocity, remembering the first days looking for food. "We got it, _not _you."

"And I know that; _relax_, bunny." Flynn Ryder teased with a crooked smile, to the bewilderment of the children. "I am a thief just like you, but I have my honor, I see y'all were having a bad time and I decided to help you."

"And _why _is that?" Felix asked him distrustfully. "I see that nobody here helps anyone."

"Y'all _just _discovered the _obvious_," Flynn Ryder replied with mockery, then ran his fingers through his hair. "_Nobody _from _up _there helps anyone from _down here_, but if you know how to get together with the right people, you _can _float instead of drowning in the _swamp_."

It took the children a while to understand what he had meant by those words. In the end the children had decided to share their cake with him. While chewing silently with more water the pieces of the extremely sweet chocolate cake with honey, Oswald kept thinking about that corpulent duck armed with explosives, trying to link that imposing image with that of his parents.

**To be continued.**

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**(1) Smallpox. **


	5. Blood in the timber

**Warning: +18. Graphic descriptions of death, torture and ****_heavy _****child abuse.**

**V**

_Blood on the timber._

It had rained again, and the roads were so full of mud that the horses were sank to the knees, causing many of the carriages to get stuck in some places. Rabid, the owners got off the carriages in the middle of the storm to try to make them move in the middle of the quagmire, many times without success, so they had no choice but to wait for the storm to subside, amid flies fluttering because many (both horses and mules, as well as some owners) used to relieve themselves right there, so the smell of mud mixed with the smell of shit... However, there was _something _else that made the owners of the carriages kept trying to get their animals out of there as soon as possible: And it was that a traffic jam on a road was a very tempting target for any thief, worse if the carriage was unprotected. Some, armed with rifles or with a small flare gun, tried to keep an eye on any elusive shadow that tried to slip into the carriage and take what they could, but at the same time, they had to be aware of anyone else who was stuck like them try to take advantage of the situation. That meant that many times there were fights and chaos in the middle of the traffic jam, to the point where many carriages were left unattended... Being at _their _mercy.

Oswald leaned on his stomach to be hidden under a bush, looking among the thick low branches as one of the carriages was completely unprotected, because the owner had run out to calm his mule, which apparently had been afraid of being trapped in the mud and now was making capers to break free, screaming in a deafening way. Beside him, Flynn Ryder smiled: "Okay, bunny: that one seems free, you go in there and take what you can, I'll give ya ten seconds... And..._ Now!_"

The black rabbit ran out of the bush, trying to see if there was someone around who could stop him, but the rain blurred everything around him, not to mention the sounds. He went like an arrow into the wagon car, pushing aside the canvas curtain that covered it, hoping to see food or, as Flynn had said, something valuable they could sell or exchange for something better. Even in the faint gray glow from outside, Oswald was able to see _what _it was.

_Jackpot!_

Without entertaining himself because he knew that he only had seconds at hand, Oswald went straight to the nearest box where the smell of salt was stronger, taking strongly in his hands a chicken, headless and already without feathers, rubbed in salt to perseverate it better before delivering it to the market. Gloating at the thought of chicken roasting in a bonfire, as well as hearing noises from behind, the black rabbit swooped down from the carriage, clutching the slippery chicken to his chest, hearing distant cries, ignoring whether they were for him or not. He ran as much as he could, splashing through ditches full of murky water and avoiding the mudflats by jumping energetically in their midst, concentrating on his goal of getting out of there with his head his place and his trophy in his hands... He threw himself to the ground the moment he reached the bushes, where Flynn Ryder was curled up, waiting for him. They stood still, sharpening their ears:

_"This damn mule that doesn't want to move, fuck! I just got a whole chicken being stolen under my fucking noses!"_

_"We'd better look around; I don't think the bastard has gone that far."_

"..._That's _our signal: Let's go." Flynn Ryder whispered to Oswald, who nodded. They both crawled on their stomachs like cowboys gliding over a mountain and into an enemy camp, glancing every moment to make sure they hadn't seen them yet. The black-haired bandit turned to see the little black rabbit have difficulty crawling since he had to carry that chicken to avoid getting it too dirty: "_Not bad_, rookie; maybe fate has _truncated _your glorious destiny to be a fucking hunter like your daddy and your mommy, but at least that family past serves you now to survive." He watched with a wry smile, but then he heard a slight snort from Oswald.

"I don't think it's worth talking about those now, _better _respect the dead, Flynn."

"Okay, okay, it was just a compliment, good heavens..." Flynn murmured, turning around and continuing with his task of getting out of there alive, although he couldn't help but think of that sulky black rabbit that was following him... _Answers _like _those _were frequent in Oswald when he or his two little friends asked him something about his parents, as if he didn't want to _open _those wounds, already old but not yet healed. However, the sharp bandit _always _noticed a shadow of sadness and despair in the black rabbit's hazel eyes, as if that deliberate omission of information was _something _he didn't want at the same time.

They arrived in Ryder's sordid, dark lair almost an hour later, completely soaked until the bones and testicles, as the rain continued to pour down furiously on the streets, making the air of the small room feel as cold and damp as outside, as Felix and Zenox had sadly told them, whom had stayed that morning in the lair to watch and, more importantly, make a fire to warm up themselves and cook whatever Oswald and Flynn could get, looking with resignation at the tables steaming in the floor, but with no sign of a miserable spark.

"We're very sorry, we tried everything, but the wood is too wet to light," Felix explained with regret, pointing out how Zenox was hitting two rocks together as Flynn had taught them, seeing that although sparks flew towards the pieces of wood, these were put out immediately.

Oswald felt dejected: Now what could they do? Their stomachs cried with hunger screams, and after several days of unsuccessful attempts, they finally had a full meal to their reach... Then he watched in amazement as Flynn Ryder let out a sigh, holding with one hand the chicken that Oswald had left on a relatively clean wood plank to show to his friends, and taking his dagger with the other, began to chop the chicken into pieces with some difficulty, noticing how the watery blood that was inside the chicken to drain on the wood and dripped on the ground, flooding the air with a smell of raw meat and blood that was somewhat repulsive but also made their stomachs growl. When he finished, there were now four relatively equal pieces of chicken, one showing the white flesh and the whitish skin of the fat, still dripping with blood. Flynn Ryder sighed again.

"Serve yourselves, boys." The three children stared at the four pieces of raw meat and then at the bandit in disbelief. Was he _really _being serious?

"But Mr. Ryder... _This _is raw, how can we _eat _that?" Zenox asked with a mixture of disgust and shyness. Flynn gave him an inquisitive and exasperated look.

"Are y'all _really _going to wait until it stops raining to go back to look for dry logs (if y'all so lucky) or try to steal logs while the chicken that cost so much to your friend to get stays here, rotting...? Don't be such a _pussy_: You must be quick and immediately eat what you get, before it gets lost or taken away," Flynn said categorically as he took his piece and used his knife to cut it. "It's that or starve yourself, for me do what y'all want" and without further ado, he put a piece of raw cartilage in his mouth, beginning to chew it in silence.

Oswald, Felix and Zenox stared at the bloody pieces with indecision. What his new 'friend' had said, although hard, had a crushing logic. Thus, slowly, each one took a piece, beginning to bite the softest pieces of chicken to chew. Oswald chewed slowly the pieces of cartilage and raw fat with a mixture of disgust and resignation, feeling the taste of blood and salt of white meat go through his throat, then biting again, chewing the little bones that the butcher had not finished to take out when preparing the bird and sucking the gray flesh that was between the marrow, feeling the watery blood dripping in his lips, trying to finish everything and leave nothing, while outside, the rain continued, inclement and indifferent.

* * *

Apparently, Oswald and his friends had established a kind of "guild" with Flynn Ryder. They called it _"guild", _as Ryder had called it after several days of being together, as people used to call an association of hunters who worked together in a certain region or city. The long-haired black bandit laughed saying that the concept of the _guilds _had been invented by thieves _centuries _before... _"but the fucking hunters stole our patent, as other professions were left with a piece of the cake"_ he used to say while they ate what they could get around a campfire or sometimes raw, because the rainy season gave them no respite.

Flynn turned out to be a curious teacher, the most paradoxical one that Oswald will have throughout his life. Practically he had only one rule: Take what you can while you can, reaching the final consequences to achieve it: He taught the children what places to go and what to avoid so that the police wouldn't fuck their 'hunt'; he took them to the market where the first lesson was to avoid the mound of discarded food (_"This is for the destitute and when there is no other option available, but I personally don't use it because there is always a loot somewhere"_, he said pointing to the mountain of rotten food) and went directly to the food stalls, always looking for those who were full of people to take something when everyone was busy wanting to be taken care of first than the others. He taught them that any water fountain would have several coins at their disposal, and it was only to know the right time to take them out, what it meant to buy something fresh directly and thus create the facade of being someone '_honored'_. He told them that they should be careful because life _didn't _give second chances and that they should take advantage of each one's _strength _for their benefit: Oswald's _agility _to take the best pieces of the carriages in the traffic jams; Zenox's _innocence _to ask some passerby for directions, while another extracted something of value from the bag or carriage of the poor victim; Felix's acute _astuteness _to guess who had the pockets full of coins in a busy street...

Oswald even wondered if the man's insistence on _educating _them in the '_art of illegal extraction'_ (as Flynn called it) was because of genuine interest in helping them or was simply to take advantage of their _'talents_' (as he also called it) to get more food, since the bandit himself had said that nobody helped anyone... Once, Oswald asked him directly, when they took long walks during their 'hunts'. Flynn Ryder stared at him, as if he was pondering about the answer. In the end he said:

"Don't ask me to give ya an _honest _answer because it might not be the one you expect... So, leave it in a _'I dunno'_. Sometimes it could be because I saw talent in you three... You _didn't _look like the typical poor devils that would die a week after escaping from the shit orphanage where y'all were, I don't know... _Maybe _it was pity to see you having a fucking bad time for no having experience in the streets. Every day the reason is _different_, like the people itself." ...They kept walking until they reached a somewhat empty street, where there were only a couple of destitute people sleeping against the wall. One of them had two half-full bottles, to which Flynn took them without thinking too much, offering one of the bottles to Oswald.

"What's this?"

"Beer," Flynn replied. When he saw the black rabbit's disbelieving face, he added: "It's alcohol, a drink that the innkeepers make when they store liquids for a long time, and with that you can make wine."

"Oh yes, if I have drunk wine! Well... My friend Felix and I sometimes stole it from the cellar of the orphanage where we were." Oswald mused, remembering the strong sweet taste of red fruits that blood-colored drink had. Flynn Ryder gave a whistle of admiration.

"Well, I'm glad that at least y'all _had _some experience in the subject _before _trying the _raw _of the streets: Many children come here without knowing a shit and that's why it is _rare _to see them survive the month... _Cheers_, boy." And he crashed his bottle with Oswald's, then started drinking. Oswald took the bottle to his lips and drank a little sip... that _spit _at two seconds. What a disgusting taste! He coughed several times, feeling the bitter aftertaste in his throat, desperately wanting some water to get rid of that feeling... Flynn Ryder looked at him, amused: "_You'll _get _used _to it."

_"Really?" _Oswald inquired looking at the bottle in disbelief. After a few moments he tried again, this time more slowly. The bitter aftertaste was still there, but at least he didn't have the reflex of spit or vomiting. After the tenth drink, Oswald felt strange, a little drowsy and dizzy, wanting to sleep, and a strange laugh was coming from his throat. He had a desire to sit down and in that he spotted the bench of a park that at that time was alone. "Can we rest a little?"

"I was going to suggest that, because this shit _left _me somewhat knocked-out," Flynn said dropping down on the bench, with Oswald sitting next to him, observing the quiet and silence of the place while, from time to time, drink more from the bottles. Flynn glanced at Oswald: The rabbit was frowning, still looking at his bottle. "Something is upsetting you. _Spit _it out."

Oswald sighed: "Have you _ever _felt bad for taking things away from others?" The bandit looked at him, then laughed, but it was a dry, hard, _bitter _laugh.

"I cannot deny that sometimes it happens to me, that those people have tried so hard to get what they have, sweating like fucking pigs and then... _Bam! _comes a son of a bitch to take it away, leaving them with nothing. Sometimes happens to me, sometimes I'm assaulted by remorse, _fuck_, more when I'm like now, _damn it, _that's why I don't drink a lot, it _ravages _your mind and makes you less efficient."

"And... And you _haven't _thought that it would not be better to do what they do, that is, to be '_honest_' like them?" Oswald insisted, not knowing _why _those questions were fired one after the other. It would be perhaps some _effect _of the drink, from which he again took a long sip. Flynn let out a snort, enveloping the air in a stench of beer.

"Many _would _like that, but they know that they can hardly do it, that even if they try, nobody gives them a job... They don't trust us, they see us like the plague, like the fucking Judas who will _stab _them in the back at the first opportunity and it's _very likely _that_ we'll do that_, because the anxiety of having what you want within reach is too strong, you _don't _want to wait... I say that _why _we have to work if you can do something easier... You told me that you and your friends escaped from the orphanage because y'all were going to put to work in a factory, right? "

"Yes, it's true, we didn't want to go there: They told us that we would work more than fourteen hours, with the right to eat once a day... Felix said that there he would lose his seven lives in one day..." Oswald muttered, half-closing his eyes, remembering the nasty fox that had spoken about his family... That words _still _caused him a feeling of _anger _and _abandonment_ at the same time:_ "(...) never in my whole life, I have heard from anybody called Oswald Van Helsing"_... He pressed his hand against the beer bottle. Then he felt a pat on the shoulder: It was Flynn, smiling sadly at him.

"Come on, come on... In the end, no one likes to work: They renege when they have to get out of bed, they want it to be Sunday to stay at home, they smile at their foreman while they curse him in their mind and look reluctantly the profits of that day, seeing with envy as we earn more than them in only half a day, if we do have luck... In the end, they envy us, they would like to be in our position, but they don't dare to do it out of fear."

"Fear of _what_?"

"Fear of being caught and have to pay _precisely _what sometimes makes me feel bad: Pay by take away what they have earned by bend their fucking backs for a whole day."

Oswald was silent, looking at the ground. He had to admit that it was frightening to see the faces of anger of those people being stripped of food, the screams and insults that they released into the air, saying things that would do to the unfortunate bastard who had stolen them... Suddenly screams that came from the other corner of the street took both Oswald and Flynn Ryder out of their drowsiness. With his head spinning, the black rabbit tried to find the origin of that sound, belatedly noticing that from one moment to another there were more people in the park. At that, he gave a start: Flynn Ryder had grabbed his hand, urging him to follow him. They both tried to get back to where they had come from, but stopped short when they saw two policemen dressed in blue and with a bad face approaching from afar. Muttering a retreat, Flynn dragged Oswald abruptly into an alley, finding themselves face to face with a bunch of people going in one direction, dragging both of them into it, leading them to a small square.

Oswald noticed, despite the numbness and drowsiness, that the atmosphere was crowded, but quite tense; There were several voices saying many things at once, making his dizziness (and now a sudden but throbbing headache) increase. Beside him, Flynn seemed anxious, as if he wanted to get out of there as much as Oswald... "The old Flynn, I didn't expect to see ya here!" A woman in green dress said and approached to them suddendly: She had curly black hair, but with excessive makeup for the day. Although she wore a threadbare white shawl, her dress was exposing her bare shoulders and part of her chest. (_"Won't she be cold with that?" _Oswald asked himself). The bandit greeted her warmly.

"Hiya, Drizella, how are you doing? _Offering _your _merchandise_? Are you offer a _discount _today?"

"You would _like _to, but I've to cover the cost of my room or the landlord will kick me out again," Drizella replied in a bored tone. "You also came to see the _commotion_? You could take advantage to look for some _booty _here."

"First my dear apprentice Oswald and I will explore the terrain before we start, I suppose that you're doing the _same thing_: looking for possible _prospects_."

"What _other _reason am I here for?" The dark-haired woman answered with a clear irony in her voice and without waiting for an answer she moved away from there, moving her hips and her butt in an exaggerated way for Oswald, beginning to talk to some men who were nearby. The rabbit was going to ask Flynn if Miss Drizella was his friend when sudden screams of rage from the crowd made him look straight ahead.

In the middle of the small square, where there was a small space free of people, a young fox in filthy and torn clothes was kneeling on the ground, with his hands tied with a rope, looking around him with milky and terrified eyes. Even in the distance, Oswald felt the terror in his expression, looking in all directions as if looking for some way of escape... Then, a rhinoceros came up from behind and made him stand up by grabbing him by the ears making him scream in pain. Then, he spoke with a powerful voice:

"This wretch dared to steal my master's apples! He has been caught and now he will _pay _for the consequences!" he growled shaking the head of the fox, who began to cry loudly, understanding his words amidst the shouts and boos of the crowd:

"_Please _have mercy, I'm so sorry! I was too hungry and that man _already _had a lot of money, he can buy himself up to an apple field if he wishes! Have _mercy_, I _beg _of you!" the fox said between sobs, not noticing that the rhinoceros pulled a butcher knife behind his back. Oswald held his breath, and could swear that everyone else did.

Several seconds passed that became almost unbearable... Until the hand holding the ears passed quickly to the fox's neck, holding him so tightly that it looked like the rhino was going to tear the head off his neck. Oswald was about to shout that the fox _had _learned the lesson, but in that instant the silver blade of a knife was seen crossing the air, followed by a dense stream of blood, accompanied by terrible screams that _pierced _Oswald's eardrums, who saw _all_, horrified: The fox's hands, once tied, were now on the floor, in a pool of blood, while now there were bloody stumps in the arms of the fox, who was still making eerie screams, writhing on the ground... The pleasant feeling of drowsiness that Oswald had by the alcohol had disappeared in one stroke, he felt the bile rise to his throat after seeing so horrible scene, which just increased when suddendly several villagers came to attack the wounded fox on the floor, either kicking him hard or hitting him with sticks, hitting him in the legs, back, stomach and head, which the fox tried to protect with his stumps, without stop screaming... Although his cries were getting weaker and weaker, until finally fade away between the screams and insults from the furious crowd. Oswald couldn't believe what he was seeing, was that what Flynn Ryder had said about them? It was horrible, _almost _hellish view...

"Let's go, Oswald."

The rabbit gave a start and followed the bandit like an automaton, with the noises of the furious mob echoing in their ears... They moved away from there as much as they could. By the time they had finally left the crowd behind and entered the alley leading to Flynn's lair, Oswald felt a violent twitch in his stomach that made him stop short and vomit everything he had drunk from the bottle, as well with pieces of half-digested bread and yellowish bile, leaving a filthy puddle of waste on the floor and a stinking smell in the air... "_Why _did they do that to him? He had apologized, he had _begged _for mercy!" The black rabbit couldn't help but say with a moan, feeling the tears coursing in his eyes. Flynn Ryder, at his side, sighed.

"They really _don't _care _if _you apologize or beg for mercy, Oswald: They _want _to _see _blood _anyways_... I'm sorry that you had to see that, but deep down it's _better _that happened, so that you can learn what you have to know: They are _different _from us, we will never _be _like them, they will never let us into their world, so we only have the option to _peck _at their crumbs or _take _what we can from them... So, you can _live _another day, _one more fucking day_."

Oswald, still panting on the ground, closed his eyes, assimilating the words of the bandit, knowing that he would have to tell Felix and Zenox to be prudent in the future... But the black rabbit couldn't help but think: Was it worth continuing to do what they're doing, if they had the risk of ending up like that little fox? _Soon _Oswald would understand at first hand the harshness of those words with what would happen next:

**...**

The three children were walking around one of the alleys in the center, looking for a place where they hadn't steal yet, this time alone because Flynn Ryder had told them that he would try his luck with a carriage of food that had arrived recently, next to a hospital... Noticing that there was a small butcher's shop with several festoons of paper and banners of green, red and white colors. From there they could feel the smell of smoked ham that made their stomachs roar loudly. They approached quietly to hide behind some barrels that were in front of the premises, giving them a clear vision of the place: It was small and although it was almost noon, there were no customers... It was a great opportunity. However, after a detour, they realized that it was closed with a padlock and it would be impossible to enter ahead... However, Zenox pointed out to his friends a chipped fence on the side. Felix rubbed his hands, anxious.

"Surely that's where the owner keeps all the meat and sausages... Well, who's going to be watching?"

"I'll do it," Zenox offered, raising his hand enthusiastically. "Anything that happens, and I'll let you know."

"That's the spirit, little one." Felix said with a smile, then moved each of the wooden planks of the fence, noticing that one of them was loose and he moved it aside, making a hole wide enough for children like them. "...Well, _ladies first_, Ozzie."

"_Hahaha_, I'm laughing," Oswald replied sarcastically, sticking his head in the hole, trying to see something from the other side, just seeing a brick wall and little else. He signaled to the cat and both got inside as quiet as they could. They stuck to the wall, moving slowly, their hearts beating as violently as the first day. When they reached the end of the wall that was actually one of the walls of the butcher's shop, there was a relatively large backyard with badly cut and parched grass, as well as several structures with wooden hooks where the meat would surely hang; in the center there was a trunk where it had a deep indentation, which was where the ax was usually placed to decapitate chickens. ("I hope I don't end up like this" thought Oswald and Felix swallowing hard)... And finally, the delicious smell of cured and smoked meat led them to a wooden shed where, from there, there were several rows of big sausages hanging... But what luck they had today, Flynn sure would congratulate them!

"I think we can treat ourselves today, Oswald, so take the biggest you can see, and we'll take one each... Or maybe a smaller one so that Zenox can carry it," Felix said eagerly as they opened the door of the shed and they were overwhelmed by the delicious aroma of meat. Oswald nodded and looked for a place to jump up to the sausages, finding one that was next to a small table. He gave an impulse and jumped, reaching the table with ease, seeing the beautiful row of sausages hanging on iron hooks. Without thinking, he grabbed one and threw it to Felix, then take another and got down. Felix was very happy. "We need some beer to go with, maybe we just walk around the street and see if a drunk left a bottle around...?"

"...But what are you saying? Y'all _just _have to ask old Tony and he'll give ya with pleasure with that... Using your own damn stomachs as a container, of course!"

Oswald and Felix were paralyzed and slowly turned around before that sudden and frightening growl... In doing so, they found a terribly well-known face... Tramp, the dog, suddenly smiled, showing his sharp canines, ready to rip that rabbit and cat that he had in front. "But what the hell are you doing here? Did you come to see what you could take? There are many sausages hanging there, there is for everyone, you don't have to fight." Felix said hastily, almost getting behind Oswald. The grey dog laughed.

"_Even _if it was like that, I _wouldn't _let filthy little rascals like you get into my territory... So, even if it was like that, I would still make you a pile of shit with my boys, although I better let Tony himself give my regards to you and..."

But at that moment, Oswald and Felix threw the sausages to his face, managing to stun him and thus have a chance to escape. Both left terrified of the shed and too ran until the loose plank of the fence. Felix went faster and threw himself out, leaving the plank aside for his friend to get out... But when Oswald was within walking distance, a huge hand grabbed him by the ears, dragging him backward. "Oswald!" Felix screamed when he saw his friend held by a fat man with a dark complexion and a black mustache, whose expression made him compete with his leather apron with bloodstains. Oswald writhed trying to break free, to which the man made a cruel laugh.

"But look what we have here! I haven't sold rabbit meat to my customers for a long time, I'm sure you'll taste delicious with linguini pasta with pesto... AGH!" The man shouted at the moment that Oswald, while writhed in the air, kicked the man in the whole jaw, but couldn't free himself. The man, furious and pressing his jaw with his free hand, shook him in the air sharply, making the black rabbit scream in pain. "You little fucking rabbit, you'll pay for this!" LUIGI!"

"Oswald, I'm coming!" Felix shouted, putting one foot inside the courtyard, but at that moment, Tramp separated from the fat man and ran towards the black cat, with fangs uncovered. Felix stepped back and disappeared behind the loose plank, with Tramp following him from behind... Oswald was now alone in the danger. He was breathing raggedly, looking at the fat man with wide eyes.

"Our seducer gave us this miserable worm that was trying to take our sausages, there was another one with him, but unfortunately he escaped... Tramp went to look for him... So..." the fat man began to say, shaking Oswald again by grabbing his ears with cruelty "...We'll have to settle for this one."

"What do you want to do with him, Tony?" Luigi asked avidly, getting closer. "I can bring the meat hammer and we soften his flesh with blows, the rabbit meat is something hard at taste."

"It would take too much time and, in addition, I'm sure that nobody would like this one... Just look at him: Too small, too skinny, too dirty... I'm not going to offer such piece of crap like him to my clients," Tony reflected, grabbing Oswald's neck, as if weighing the flesh of his neck and then snorting with evident disappointment. "...Well, even if he doesn't serve as food, we still have to teach him a lesson, right?" He asked directly to Oswald's terrified face, who was having difficult to breathe because of the pressure that the fat man's huge hands were applying to his trachea... Then he tried to speak with a hoarse voice.

"Please... Let me go, I won't... do it again... I swear... Just... Let me... Go..." Oswald squawked, closing his eyes in lack of air. If he continued like this, he was going to drown. The man laughed and, still holding the rabbit, placed him on his knees on the ground, with his head resting on the cut trunk. Oswald writhed and kicked again, but Tony punched him in the small of his back, paralyzing the rabbit from the lacerating pain.

"Oh, we'll let you go, little one; of course we'll let you go since it's the first time we've seen you trying to steal here. And, in addition, we're merciful... But we have to show you that stealing is wrong" Tony said, squeezing Oswald's head against the trunk with one hand and holding him by the neck with the other. "...And since we don't trust the word of a dirty thief like you, then we'd better give you... A couple of reminders."

Oswald was breathing more agitated than ever, his heart was beating wildly, like a bird desperate to fly away from there. He tried to see what the two men were doing, but it was impossible in that uncomfortable position. He was trapped, there was no escape... His mind catapulted into the severed hands of the thieving fox: His hands will be cut too or maybe his ears? He prayed with all his strength that Felix and Zenox... Or anyone could save him from the impending torture... Then a hand grabbed one of his ears, extending it over the wood. The terror paralyzed him, he wanted to scream for help, but in a frightening lucidity, he realized that it would be the worst in his situation: If more people came, Tony and Luigi would tell them who he was and what he had done, for what they would do to him the _same _as that fox... _**"They want to see blood run anyway."**_ He could barely breathe now... But a sudden and extremely horrible pain in his ear made him let out a scream that surely was heard in that street. He felt like a sharp metal thing was going through the base of his ear until touch the wood. He kept screaming from the pain, as he felt the object slowly being removed from his ear. Blinded by the pain, Oswald caught sight of the fat man walking away to the shed, holding the awl, now dripping _blood_... _His _blood. Oswald looked up and saw his blood slowly sliding a small trickle all over the trunk. He closed his eyes, _cursing _his luck... He heard a sudden exclamation.

"Hey Tony, but this bastard is already _marked _as a cow!"

"_What _the fuck are you talking about, Luigi?" Tony answered from a distance, apparently inside the shed. Despite being in shock from the pain, Oswald felt the thin man take one of his foot, as if he was examining it.

"I tell you, yes, he has an iron mark on the sole of the foot! What a _strange _shape, it seems..._ A cross_, I think... Could it be that this bastard escaped from a convent?"

"And who the hell cares about that? If he's _already _marked, it's because this piece of shit has NOT learned its lesson yet, so I'll give him another in MY way" Tony exclaimed, coming out of the shed's surprise, holding a ignited poker to mark cows, smiling with sadism "Now you'll learn, you shitty rabbit, there's _no place _for the wicked like you! Take off his pants, Luigi!"

The thin man had grabbed his worn pants, but Oswald didn't resist... He just closed his eyes, waiting for everything to end. He no longer wished to continue in such a cruel world where he had no choice but to peck at the crumbs of others or take what he could, at the risk of being mistreated to death... As it seemed it would happen now. _"I'm sorry, Felix, Zenox. Mother, father... I'll go find you and finally meet you..." _The sound of a bell paralyzed them all. Oswald opened his eyes again, still motionless. Then they began to hear distant cries of people demanding to be attended... Both Tony and Luigi let out a sigh of disappointment. Tony came back grumbling to the shed to put the poker in water and Luigi stopped crushing Oswald against the trunk, moving away toward the back door while cleaning his pants.

Oswald _didn't _know at what point his paralysis disappeared, but he only remembered getting up and running at the loose plank of the fence, getting into it and throwing himself into the street. Everything else was disjointed and confusing, because the pain made his head throb in a terrible way, blurring his vision... He just remember that a pair of hands had grabbed him by the stiff arms and drag him to some unknown point... Oswald didn't know if it was to somewhere _safe _or if he was being driven back to the _slaughterhouse_, but he simply let himself be carried away. That enigmatic blackness that he seemed to be falling was more secure and a thousand times more welcoming than the cruel world where he lived... In his delirium, he heard a jumble of voices:

"How the fuck did you think of getting into that butchery without further support?! A fucking butchery, damn it! It was a miracle that he wasn't killed!"

"They attacked us from behind, Flynn, that damn dog was following me!"

"Oswald, Oswald, can you hear me? Oswald...!"

"Stop whining and help me carry him, Zenox! With some water he will be better! Let's go now!"

He didn't listen to anything else.

**...**

Oswald spent several days in a state of drowsiness. Felix and Zenox had dragged him to the lair of Flynn Ryder, thanks to Flynn himself: They had been lucky to find him, and he had taken Tony and Luigi out of the way because he began to shout in the street that the butcher shop was offering free meat. Then they had laid him down on the thin mattress where the three friends used to sleep and with the help of the cleaner rags, they had found they had cleaned the blood from his ear... That same night, thanks to a piece of tin, Oswald had managed to see the _severity _of the damage: A _hole _of two centimeters in diameter at the base of his left ear, surrounded by an ugly red rim by the clotted blood. Seeing _it _for the first time was very mortifying to him, not to say depressing.

His friends had insisted that he stay in the lair to rest while they would look for food. It had been difficult to convince him, because Oswald wanted to accompany them... But the persistent and annoying pain in his ear, coupled with a sudden tiredness that assaulted him a few days later had defeated him, leaving him lying in the mattress all that day.

Both Felix and Zenox were worried, because that feeling _didn't _go away, and then came accommodated by a temperature rush. Distressed, the children noticed the sweat on Oswald's forehead and neck sliding down his shirt, already completely wet, as if they were inside an oven... When in reality it _wasn't _hot at all. Flynn Ryder told them gravely that most likely the wound had begun to become infected. When Zenox, glassy eyed at the effort not to burst into tears, had asked him how they could help him feel better, he had answered: "Stealing an apothecary shop is not easy, but we can try. In the meantime, you must keep his forehead wet to lower the fever and keep his brains from overheating... like now."

And he didn't seem to exaggerate: There were moments when Oswald seemed _not _to listen to them, lost in a kind of lethargy in which he stared at the ceiling or had his eyes closed. The wound on his ear looked like it was never going to close, always with that disturbing reddish color that caused him twinges of pain from time to time, especially when he moved his ears. Following the bandit's instructions, Felix and Zenox took turns taking care of Oswald while the other went out to steal or beg, covering the rabbit's forehead constantly with rags dipped in rainwater collected in buckets, fighting without quarter with the infection that was refusing to leave... At night it was worse, because, although they covered him with all the blankets they had and could find, Oswald was shivering from the cold and the fever, feeling the sweat running unpleasantly through his spine, gasping with thirst no matter how much his friends brought water to their lips with the help of a bowl. Then he fell back into a state of drowsiness, oscillating between intermittent dreams, _plagued _by nightmares.

Between coughs and gasps, Oswald could see himself in front of a mirror where the other side he could see the silhouette of two big rabbits, without distinguishing their faces. Oswald screamed and hit the surface of the mirror, hurting his fists, but not making the glass crack, trying uselessly to be with them. The image was blurred and then there was the same wall with the iron hooks where the sausages were hung, but in the middle of them there were two adult rabbits, a female and a male, each with a horrible cut that started from their genitals to almost reach their chins, exposing their organs and viscera, with a stinking pool of blood dripping under them. He could only scream and cry when he saw their open eyes staring at him and their faces frozen in an expression of terror, while the voice of the fat man, the butcher, happily announced to the nothingness around him:_ "A silver coin for the Van Helsing family! A silver coin, take them now and they will have their son, Oswald Van Helsing, free!"_ And before those words, both figures vanished in the air, showing before him his own corpse disemboweled and hung in such a way that he looked like a _horrendous _parody of Jesus Christ crucified, with the left ear completely destroyed and a red-hot mark on the chest made with iron to mark cows, still distilling smoke, with the drops of blood falling on their feet, where there was a strange cross-shaped mark... Then Oswald was screaming in terror, with a hand on his chest and his eyes dilated, all while Felix or Zenox grabbed him from the arms and tried to reassure him, ending with the rabbit almost always vomiting, although he hadn't eaten anything at that moment and then he collapsed back into the mattress, torn and decomposed.

How much longer would this last? How much more could he endure until he succumbs to fever or madness? Sometimes, in the backwater of his delirium, Oswald could be seen moving his lips, asking God or the Virgin to please take him away... Apparently, they had understood his pleas, for they had taken away... The fever: After a week of torture, as his two friends had noted with relief and exhilaration, the intense heat from Oswald's body had become increasingly tenuous, making him more conscious. The pain of the ear was still there, but it was less penetrating, and the punctures felt less and less. Soon he was able to sit up and get up off the mattress without vomiting or feeling nauseous. When he was able to leave the lair, the cold air of the afternoon was like a warm welcome _than _a slap in the face.

* * *

"You _really _scared us, we thought you were going to fall asleep at some point and you wouldn't wake up again" Felix muttered with a smile from ear to ear. Beside him, Zenox wiped his eyes after throwing himself at Oswald, sobbing with emotion. At the entrance and crossed arms, Flynn Ryder smiled wryly.

"It seems that _neither _up Heaven nor _down there _they still want you, rookie; it's good to have you back." Oswald, in the midst of the hugs of his friends and despite the fatigue, he smiled crookedly.

"It seems I still have _something _to do here that keeps me from leaving yet."

"I agree with that."

And then he threw an object that none of them could catch, remaining on the ground in front of them: It was a small, round, shiny silver object. The three little ones looked at the object that looked more like a coin than anything else, and then saw Flynn Ryder. "What is this supposed to be?" Oswald asked taking it between his fingers, really looking like a coin. The bandit's smirk widened a little more.

"I _imagined _that you would _want _to cover that ugly hole in your ear, I got it in a jewelry store that was doing some remodeling... This _will _be a reminder, rookie," Flynn said, pointing to Oswald with his finger "...that in the world there _aren't _only the monsters from the fairy tales or those who roam the roads to fuck the unlucky one's life that would find them, but also among ourselves... We are _all _prone to want to _see _blood run."

Oswald remained silent while Felix took the little jewel and proceeded, with the help of Zenox, to put it in the hole of his left ear. It hurt especially when the brooch closed just over the wound barely healed, but he endured. Then he took the piece of tin and looked at himself: Where before there was a hole of cartilage, now there was the silver earring. Felix let out a whistle of admiration:

"It _certainly _gives you a cool and distinctive look, Ozzie."

**To be continued. **


	6. Emily

**Shade: **At last we will give some rest to poor Oswald and his friends. _Any_ fan of Twisted-Wind _will_ recognize her. Enjoy!

**VI**

_Emily_

Oswald celebrated having overcome the fever and ear infection with a whole turkey with bread and nuts, bought with a pile of coins that he and his friends had obtained at a fountain in front of the town hall building. The three children were happily returning from their successful trip in the square with a medium-sized turkey, as well as a bag of hot buns and chestnuts, walking in the surrounding streets to avoid any problems and carrying food in a garbage bag to camouflage them better.

"Hopefully when we arrive, Mr. Ryder has already set the fire, I can't wait to eat." Zenox said as he savored a chestnut in his mouth with a smile. Beside him, Oswald was also smiling and was quite lively: He hardly felt pain in his ear and loved how the earring shone under the sun, according to Felix and Zenox.

They turned to the abandoned alley where Flynn Ryder's lair was, noting that something was wrong... Oswald grabbed Zenox's neck, making him stop dead. Before the orange cabbit asked what had happened, Oswald covered his mouth and told him to remain silent, then slowly moved them down the dark and lonely alley, which seemed to have an air that it didn't have before... It was as if something very _sinister_ was waiting for them at the end of the alley. The three children walked as quietly as they could, just daring to breathe, armed with a pair of sticks that they had casually found on the ground, getting closer, until they reached the edge of the lair's entrance. Felix bravely dared to put his head in the entrance... Then he stifled a scream: "Guys, you have to see this." he whispered in a strangely sharp voice. Zenox was breathing shortly. Oswald held his breath: Was there an attack? Was the Tramp's pack was looking for them? The black rabbit and the orange cabbit stepped forward, sticking their heads out too... A crushing silence consumed them:

The whole place was upside down, as if _someone_ (perhaps Tramp and his minions) had searched the place from top to bottom. The few items such as saucepans, bottles and some frayed furniture and boxes collected from landfills were either scattered on the ground or broken into pieces... However, what most frightened the children was a huge blood stain on the ground, as if someone had a horrible fight... And had lost or rather, _slaughtered_ the opponent. The same bloody spots looked, horribly clear, on the gray walls, showing a macabre atmosphere... Then, Felix's eyes, better accustomed to the darkness, landed on something that made him tremble among his friends, and then pointing to the ground, where, next to the large blood stain, there was a piece of cloth... Although terrified, Oswald dared to enter and approach the piece of cloth, looking at several sides to make sure there was no one but the... He grabbed the piece of cloth, stained and torn, he realized that it was a blue vest, strikingly similar to that worn by Flynn Ryder... So, where was he? It was what the little ones were wondering, without daring to say it out loud. Definitely, something had happened, but they dared not stay to find out, since the devastated lair had the same sinister air as the alley... They _didn't_ feel safe _at all_ staying there.

They walked down several streets, hoping to see Flynn Ryder, but there was no sign of him. They ended up sitting on a curb on a busy street. It was certainly a painful meal; the spices of roasted turkey and the sweetness of bread and chestnuts couldn't cover the bad taste of uncertainty and helplessness.

* * *

They _never_ knew what had _happened_ to Flynn Ryder. There was no sign, just his familiar blue vest stained with blood. Given that image, they could only imagine the worst. They looked for him in several parts of the city, asking several tramps and other people of obscure reputation if they had seen him, including his friend Drizella... They all gave them different testimonies: Some said he had gone on one of the trains to seek fortune elsewhere; others said that, due to some problems with other thieves, he had moved to another place; one said that he had _always_ wanted to look for his long-haired princess locked in a tower... and others, that he had been arrested by the police. Soon the children had given up. He wasn't anywhere, and it only remained to imagine his destiny.

Seeing that it was impossible for them to stay in the old lair because of the dangerous air that it infused, the children thought of returning to the old field where they had been sleeping before... To their surprise, they were still unoccupied, but the canvas ceiling was torn on the floor. They had to find several boxes and stones to make an improvised roof... That was shaking from the storm winds, threatening to knock it down.

"We _can't_ stay here." Felix started saying that night. "If it's true that those men in blue took Flynn, then they may be hunting people like us."

"Then what do we do?" Zenox asked fearfully, curled up next to Oswald to keep he and the rabbit warm. "Where will we go?"

The silence of the black cat was very eloquent. Oswald exclaimed: "Felix! Don't tell me you're thinking about...!"

"Shut up, long ears, I'm thinking." Felix interrupted him with a low voice. Oswald glared at him. Then the cat sighed. "No, I wasn't thinking about that... But something else."

"What thing?"

"Do you remember those ladies with white robes and hoods who were next to a square and had those bells?" Felix began to say cautiously. Both Oswald (still somewhat scowling) and Zenox (who was sad) nodded. "They said that the poor and the helpless would come to receive help... That they give shelter and food for the body and soul... What do they say, guys? Do we make the attempt?"

Oswald relaxed his expression, thinking about that option. He remembered those women in white, talking about God, about how he helped those in need... Should they go? A new shudder of the cardboard roof was like a grim response.

Nothing was lost by _trying_.

* * *

The next day, very early, the three children left the field after covering it with broken boxes and garbage bags to hide it. The sky was leaden and threatened to rain. They crossed the same street where they had seen the women in white, seeing that there were several people walking towards them, being in the middle of a true stampede of people. Instinctively, Oswald grabbed Felix and Zenox with his hands to prevent them from being separated... And two seconds later, they were eaten by the crowd. The three children felt the blows and thrusts of the people, moving them sharply forward and backward. Oswald felt Zenox's fingers clench tightly against his, an obvious sign that he was scared... Suddenly, the black rabbit felt a pull to his right: He saw that it was Felix who was pulling them, among in that small ocean of colored clothes, to an ethereal white veil that was a few meters away from them... Then he felt that they collided with the veil, showing the face of a female duck, quite fat and dressed entirely in white, except for a black rosary on her chest. She looked at them curiously.

"Does something happen, little ones?"

Oswald didn't know what to say, but Felix spoke for him, speaking in a tone that the rabbit had heard before... When he wanted to coax victims to take off their wallets: "We don't want to bother you, ma'am, but... We're lost, we don't know where to go. Our friend has had a lot of fever, poor thing, we almost die." Felix said, pulling Oswald against him, placing his paw on his forehead, to the slight annoyance of the rabbit. The woman looked at them with compassion.

"It looks like they've been through a lot, little ones... _Come_ with me, maybe they can regain strength..." And she started walking away, holding Felix's hand, who grabbed Oswald and Zenox. As soon as the woman turned around, the black cat gave a triumphant smile to his friends. Oswald looked at Zenox, who nodded with some fear. Then he nodded in turn.

The woman in white led them out of the main street and the crowd, walking along a cobbled alley but much less crowded, where needle-shaped ceilings abounded. Finally, they stopped in front of a brick building that had a huge tower. The three children were overwhelmed by the imposing place, especially when they saw the stone sculptures in the shape of angels guarding in front of huge wooden doors. The woman made them pass in front of them, where Oswald could see dozens of wooden benches and in the background, a table with a white tablecloth and above, a huge golden cross... That image left him enraptured; but the female duck led them to a house near the building, smaller, but just as cozy, with wooden chairs and many crosses on the walls, as well as paintings depicting Jesus or the Virgin. In the background, a small fireplace gave warmth to the room. The plump woman made them sit on the chairs and after leaving them alone for a moment, returned with a pewter tray with a loaf of bread and two jugs of water and wine. The three children threw themselves like vultures to the provisions, eating them greedily.

"That's it. The body must first warm up so that the soul can do it too and do the work in your hearts. I'm sister Cavanaugh." The white dressed duck presented herself, looking at them with tenderness. "Once you have eaten, we will look where you can rest."

"And what will _happen_ to us then?" Oswald asked with the cheeks swollen by the hot bread. Sister Cavanaugh smiled at him placidly.

"The Lord doesn't forget any of his children, but it's necessary to look for him... _Help yourself and I will help you (1)," _said the duck softly, taking the empty tray. "Many people on the street come to us, we try to help them in what we can in our austerity and limitations... After you have rested, we will see what you can do."

Then he left, leaving them there. Felix moved away from his friends to get closer to the flames, releasing a sigh of relief. "Did you see? It was pretty simple."

"I'm impressed Felix," Zenox said softly, due to the drowsiness of wine and food, leaning against the wall and yawning. "So, what can we do now?"

"Well, it will be to see what this adventure holds for us. Perhaps it is a better place than where we were... And we don't have to steal again to survive" Oswald murmured thinking precisely about Flynn Ryder and his uncertain destiny... It was evident that his friends thought the same. That same night, Sister Cavanaugh sent them to pray, with the black rabbit silently praying for Flynn's sake, and if he hadn't been able to avoid the horrible fate of the thieves who are caught... At least he could finally _rest_.

* * *

Even on blankets, the three children slept soundly. They were awakened by the cries of caged birds in one of the corridors. The children waited for a few minutes in the case of Sister Cavanaugh or someone else approached them to give them breakfast or something else. After a good time without hearing anything but bird songs, they decided to venture through the corridors of the place. It was as quiet and impeccably clean as the corridors of the orphanage, but unlike this, there was a lot of light because on the other side there was a small rectangular backyard where there was a small fountain surrounded by ramming flowers. Oswald, Felix and Zenox were fascinated by the morning glow reflecting in the waters, feeling unable to get close to taking possible coins as they _surely_ would have done in the past... Everything was so calm and peaceful that even the silence was very pleasant.

"Do you hear that?" Oswald suddenly asked quietly as he lifted one of his ears. The other two were silent, trying to listen... Suddenly, mixed voices are heard faintly in the distance: They were like chants. "Do you want to take a look?"

"Sounds good, and maybe they'll give us something to eat." Felix murmured rubbing his belly with a grimace, something that not even Oswald reproached him because his stomach was also crying with hunger.

They walked to the end of the corridor and reached some wooden doors that were open. Inside was a small chapel with wooden benches and an altar. Several women dressed entirely in white like Sister Cavanaugh were on their knees, praying. The children hesitated for a moment whether to enter or not, but in the end, they entered silently, sitting on one of the benches, closing their eyes and praying... Or rather waiting in silence for any of them to notice their presence. At the end, the parish priest who officiated the mass noticed them and asked who they were. Before they could introduce themselves, Sister Cavanaugh spoke:

"They are little ones from the street who came to me asking for shelter, they were hungry and cold. See Father, they have come here without me looking for them... They have a desire for God."

"Remarkable," the parish priest murmured, looking at the children with a slightly stern expression, while the other sisters kindly greeted the children. "Come closer, my children." Before the reluctance of the children, he added: "Jesus said: _Let the children approach me_." As they approached, he kept looking at them with a critical eye. "The sister brought them here, so you must be with desires for help and for wanting God to get in and _transform_ your lives."

"That's right, Father," Felix said with aplomb, using his chatting once more, but this time with no intention of stealing. "We get tired of being in the streets, of stealing, of sleeping on the ground... The people just reject us and beat us... My friend Oswald is almost _killed_ by butchers." And he pointed to the rabbit, who looked at the ground with shame. "...And that's why we think about coming here, we can work on what you ask us... We just want one chance." He finished with the same broken tone he used to coax pedestrians... The priest grunted and then sighed.

"Understand that all of you have done wrong and have had a bad time. If you are willing to _repent_ and _let_ God work in you, you will be _new_creatures in the Lord." At those words, the three children lowered their heads. "I must talk to the other nuns about what we will do with you. You can wait in the hallway and someone will bring you something to eat. You can go in peace."

_"Amen!"_ the children said with joy and almost running out of the chapel, because they could hardly contain the emotion.

* * *

Sister Cavanaugh was waiting for them outside with a pewter tray with loaves of bread and a large piece of goat cheese that the children ate happily. She left them a jug of water and told them to wait there, that they would soon call them to tell them what would happen to them, and then she left. The children drank greedily, wondering out loud what they would do in this place: whether to work in the kitchens, or cleaning the nuns' cells or attending the priest at the mass... Even though they knew it would be the same hard work as in the orphanage, they wouldn't eat that horrible oatmeal paste or being beaten by the caretakers... Then, a strange noise was heard from the backyard. Curious, the children left the empty jug on the floor and headed for the backyard... Then they were horrified:

A row of nuns was kneeling in the yard, each undressed from the waist up, trying to cover themselves with their robes... While others had their breasts in the air, to the stupor and fascination of children, since they had never seen anything like that... But soon one of the nuns began to hit the backs of the kneeling women with a green rod, which for some reason was causing reddish and inflamed spots on their skins, while the nun howled_: "You must atone the sins what you have committed, what you are committing and what you will commit!"_ ...something that was incomprehensible by children. Why did they do that? It was terribly similar to what caretakers did... Then, another voice pulled them out of their paralysis: It was the priest and he was getting closer! Terrified, the children ran to hide behind a column, away from the abominable torture of the nuns and at the same time the priest, who apparently walked with Sister Cavanaugh. Thus, they could hear them:

"Are you sure, Father? We need some help in the kitchens and in the laundry. They could be useful here."

"That is inadmissible, sister. The bishop gave a direct order: No children or pets in the convents to avoid the... Problems of the past with nuns using them to satisfy their desires of the flesh."

"Lord have mercy!" said the woman scandalized.

"Yes, and to prevent that from happening, it would be best to send these children to a place where they can be rehabilitated with both men and God. They said it: They were stealing in the streets. And although it shows that they are repentant, they should be amended in good way... And that is done through hard work. I will call the orphanage of Sighisoara to come pick them up."

...If with the horrendous show of nuns being whipped it had been a cause to run from there, it was definitely that conversation that did it. Horrified by everything they heard, as well as disappointed to know that the church was not going to help them out of their situation, the three children set out to escape from there... They would _definitely_ never _escape_ from the streets.

**...**

She sighed as she leaned against the back of the seat. Although she was used to the constant rattling, she preferred to walk because apart from going faster without worrying about traffic jams, it was more pleasant to walk among people, to confuse each other while going to the market, to the church or to her classes. She looked out the window noticing that they were near a chapel, so she wanted to pray. She asked the coachman to stop for a moment. The man, an aged mole, snorted: "Miss De Claire, I thought your father had told you that it was _important_ to return home after your recitals and..."

"Excuse me, sir, but... My father _hadn't_ said _not_ to neglect God while I was studying?"

"Well... _Yes_, it's true, miss."

"Then we get there, please."

The man growled, but he obeyed, sweeping the mules to get to the church. At that time in the morning there weren't many people in the alleyways, so it occurred to him to accelerate a little... But at the time of going down the clear street, from a corner, three children had run with the intention of crossing that street, leaving two of them just in front of the legs of the mules, who had rerouted by the horrified coachman. But at the last second, the last of the children jumped and pushed the other two... he was about to be trampled by the mules. Among the animal's shrieks were the children's screams: _"Oswald! Oswald!"_

Frightened, she quickly got out of the carriage, hoping there was no skull or broken bones.

* * *

He felt dizzy. His first thought was that he had split his head... The second was that at least his friends were fine. They had managed to leave the convent after hearing the priest's plans to deliver them to the orphanage, managing to sneak off to the main church that was next to the one of the nearby corridors. They had to be very careful so that neither the pastor nor Sister Cavanaugh caught them. Fortunately, at that time the church was in full mass, so they could mingle in the crowd that was praying standing. When they left there, they had thought about going out through an alley to return to the clearing... When that carriage crossed them in front, just when Felix and Zenox were crossing the street... He didn't think: He just threw himself and he pushed them forward, when he received a mule's kick a second later, seeing only blurry figures around him.

_"Don't fall asleep, little one! Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me!"_

The black rabbit automatically pressed his fingers against the hand of the unknown woman who was talking to him hastily, feeling it soft to the touch... Definitely those weren't the hands of Zenox or Felix, or anyone who had been sleeping in the streets for months. He slowly opened his eyes, feeling that where the mule hit him was a bump was the size of a grapefruit; He saw that the blurry figures became sharper, showing the scared faces of Felix and Zenox... And a young female fawn with huge black eyes and wavy hair, apparently a few years older than them, who looked at him just worried. He blinked again and noticed that he was lying on his back on the floor.

"You're fine, Ozzie!" Zenox exclaimed. "How do you feel?"

_"Uuugh..."_ he groaned, rising slowly, taking his hand to the bump. "I think I _saw_ my whole life pass before my eyes."

"Well, it's _not_ that it was _too_ long, ya know... That would explain why you lost consciousness for _less_ than three minutes." Felix muttered with a smile of relief... Oswald would have snorted at his mocking comment, but he was too dizzy to answer. The female fawn moved closer to him, still holding his hand. When focusing better, there was a chubby mole with a hat sat beside her, who made a face.

"Good thing you woke up; we would have a _big_ trouble if we had killed a child in the street... So, to avoid the _possible_ scandal..." The mole murmured sinking his hands to his pockets and pulling out a sack of gold coins that left both Oswald and to his friends stunned. "...What do you say _if_ you take this and _forget_ the matter, child?"

_"…Eeeeh?"_ That was all Oswald could say. There was a snort and then an extremely indignant high voice:

"Dickies! How do you think of doing such a thing?! We are _not_ going to bribe anyone to hide our mistake!"

"But miss, they crossed the street first!" The coachman said in an affected tone, pointing at the children, who glared at him. The female fawn (which apparently was the mole's madam, judging by how she spoke to him and the elegant dress she wore) frowned and spoke sternly:

"I _don't_ _care_ who was responsible or not. The _important_ thing is to repair the damage... And no, giving money is _not_ the way. That's not _how_ charity works." She said looking at Oswald with compassion, helping him to stand. "The _least_ I can do is that you can rest for a while and we can deflate that bump on your head... Maybe _also_ with some chocolate and biscuits."

"Miss De Claire! Are you _thinking_ about...?!" The coachman fell silent at the sight of the lady's annoyance, so he lowered his voice, but without leaving the dismayed tone. "...Just _look_ at them, miss: You can tell they _aren't_ children who left the church to pray; I don't think your father approves..."

"_Didn't_ the Bible say we _shouldn't_ judge?" She interrupted him, still with a severe expression. The coachman fell silent again, flushed with shame. "Well, it seems that you're _forgetting_ that my father wasn't born in a cradle of gold, precisely. And _even less_, the powerful Scrooge McDuck, who always said that he started by cleaning men's shoes _like_ you, my good sir..." Then her expression softened as she focused her eyes on the three children. "Come with us. There we can give a bandage to his friend and also a good snack to pass the scare, don't you think?" And she smiled.

Oswald blinked again, nodding mechanically at the female fawn's smile. It was a kind smile, just like Sister Cavanaugh's... _Could_ it be that she also had a motive _behind_ those intentions? Didn't they just escape from _one_ bad adventure to get into _another_? What a _crooked luck_ he had... But when he saw that his friends were beginning to approach Miss De Claire's carriage, he had no choice but to let himself go. Oswald had seen carriages before in the streets, but he _never_ thought he was going to can ever ride in one. The seats were fluffy. The curtains were simple, but bright colors. Inside there was a small table with several books but they were impossible for the children to read. The girl sat them in front of her, without leaving her kind smile. Then she ordered the coachman to continue to the house, without delay. The carriage returned to rattle against the asphalt... _"To the house" "To the house, please."_ Those words crossed Oswald's mind without stopping: Did they go to a house...? It _wasn't_ the orphanage's house... _right_?

But seeing the tender eyes of the female fawn, it was clear that they were not going to go to that place. He wasn't sure, but something inside told him.

* * *

After a journey of approximately 20 minutes between cobbled streets in the northern part of the town, between huge and aging houses, Oswald, Felix and Zenox were amazed by the building they saw in front: It was an old-style mansion, painted of sky blue, placed at the end of a huge garden very well maintained, full of rhododendrons and cypresses. Two workers opened the black bars that separated the garden from the main street, letting them in.

Felix and Zenox had their heads outside the carriage, staring in amazement all around them. Oswald, on the other hand, kept talking to the female fawn, who had introduced himself as Emily De Claire... They had spoken throughout the trip, or more precisely, the black rabbit had answered all the questions she asked him. She didn't look at them like the people on the streets used to do, with disdain and disgust. Nor with the pity of the nuns, but with a kind smile... For some reason he felt comfortable with miss De Claire. That encouraged him to smile too, really feeling it.

* * *

"So that's your story," Emily murmured raising the teapot to pour a chocolate splash back to the three children's cups. Small cups of porcelain carved in gold that would surely be worth each month of meat or chicken in the market, as well as the same teapot or the white wooden table with their chairs where they had sat, in the same garden, to eat biscuits and tell their respective stories. "I see you have _suffered_ a lot, you three. I _can't_ imagine what happened. I can only say this: God was _always_ watching of you being together."

Oswald smiled. "You could say that yes, that from the orphanage we found each other, and we have been together..." He looked at Felix and Zenox, both with huge smiles. "I _wouldn't_ be _here_ without them."

"I would have been bothered and abused by the bad children of the orphanage if it weren't for Ozzie and Felix." Zenox muttered with tears in his eyes. "Nor would I have survived on the street _without_ them."

Emily was smiling, moved by the displays of friendship they showed, then she looked at Felix, as if waiting for his part... Oswald _kicked_ Felix under the table. The black cat almost coughed the chocolate he had just drunk. Then he raised an eyebrow. "Agh! Well... I'm _not_ very good for sentimental phrases... But I _can_ say that my stay at the orphanage was less unbearable thanks to Oswald. And on the street thanks to him and Zenox. _Everything_ was more pleasant being with them."

"And that's why we'll _always_ be together, whatever adventure God may have for us... Even in this one." Oswald finished telling Emily, who blinked in amazement for a moment and then made a soft smile.

"I agree. It _must_ be the _Providence_ that brought all of you here with me."

Oswald tilted his head curiously. "Providence?"

"Yes, as in the novels by Charles Dickens (4)," Emily said, taking a sip... Then, noticing the strangeness of both the rabbit, the cat and the cabbit, she explained: "He was a very famous writer, his books are among my favorites... There _were_ children in his stories, little ones like _all_ of you, who lived in the streets, going through _all_ kinds of difficulties..." Oswald looked down. His tongue was burning due to the rush of taking a sip of that strange concoction called "chocolate", but it had been so delicious that he couldn't stop... _'How curious that lives like us can make a whole story'_ he thought with a frown... then a sentence from Emily made him raise his head: "...We could also read some of his books. Oh, sure you will laugh like crazy with "_Pickwick"_ (5)...!"

"Erm, excuse me, miss Emily," Oswald dared to interrupt her shyly, looking at the surprised Emily with embarrassed expression. "...We can't do that because... We don't know how to read."

"Oh," she managed to articulate looking at both Oswald and Zenox and Felix, who at that time eagerly ate freshly baked biscuits with a face of joy... the surprise became sadness. "I should have imagined it... Sometimes I don't think about what's going on with others... " She looked at her own cup with a faded expression. Oswald felt bad for having saddened her, and tried to say an apology, but suddenly Emily looked up with a determined expression, clapping. "But of course! I can teach you all of you!"

Oswald was stunned. _Teach_ them? Teach them to _read_? Had he listened well or had his ear already _stunted_ by the wound? He stared at miss De Claire, as if she had really said something like **_"Wipe your ears, mangy rabbit: I said, 'teach you the way to the exit', because I get disgusted by you..."_** But she kept smiling, looking at him expectantly... _Expectant_ of what? He opened his mouth to speak, but Zenox spoke first:

"You mean... _teach_ us to read, missy?" He asked shyly. To Oswald's surprise, Emily's smile widened, and then nodded. "But _why_?" he asked with confusion. Oswald looked back at the female fawn, also dying of curiosity: Why _would_ a rich girl like her, with such luxuries, deign to teach reading to ragged children who, in another situation, _would_ have stolen her to get food ? It was obvious that Emily was thinking about the same thing, because she began to speak slowly:

"When reading about those children Mr. Dickens recounted in his books, one wishes... One wishes to _help_ them. I study to become a teacher, to have children eager to learn... But we _never_ leave the classroom to go to teach... I think that _here_ I could learn to be a teacher, by teaching children like all of you. Besides... You see people in the garden constantly, but the truth is that in this house I'm _alone_, my parents were constantly on business trips and I almost _never_ see them. _Sincerely_... Being with all of you this last half hour has been... The _best thing_ that has happened to me since my last Christmas with my parents, years ago..." She paused to let out a sigh. Oswald felt moved by the sad tone of the girl: He imagined her in the midst of indifferent servants in that huge mansion behind her... It was certainly a _sad_ image for anyone. He had suffered hungry and cold, yes... But he _hadn't_ done it _alone_, he wouldn't know what to do without Felix and Zenox by his side. "...I know that this is so _sudden_, but... I _feel_ like we've _met_, as if... As _if_..."

"...That providence _would_ have brought us together." Oswald wasn't sure how or why he said that, as if something at the bottom of his being had spoken for him… Emily De Claire blinked a few seconds and then she made the warmest smile the children had ever _seen_, like if a sunbeam had illuminated her face.

"Exactly: _Providence_. _With_ capital letter." She whispered, looking at the black rabbit with a mixture of joy and gratitude. Oswald was sure he would _treasure_ that expression forever... Just like _that_ word.

_Providence_.

**. . .**

His prey rose again with a strangled roar, showing the enormous fangs and the unharmed eye bloodshot, staring at him, preparing to pounce on... Without doubt, despite the injuries, it still had the strength to fight. Well, he'd give it that pleasure: With a quick movement, he ran and jumped at the moment the creature had closed its jaws to bite him, staying on the air. During that fraction of a second his arms unfolded out of his cape, releasing a shower of daggers that were embedded in the dark skin, already soaked in blood, making it scream in pain, falling sideways, although with one of its claws tried to reach to his opponent, with him noticing this immediately, so he jumped back on the other side, throwing something into the air, apparently a gun... In a matter of seconds, it saw the icy blue eyes right in front of its remaining eye... Until now.

"Suck _this_, evildoer."

And the creature saw no more, for a fifteen-inch sharp iron had been buried deep in the retina, causing it to explode in a stream of blood that had fallen on his face. With a steep groan, the creature fell on its side, now completely motionless. He let out a sigh as he looked at the body of his prey... A second later he began to curse out loud: The gun he had thrown into the air had landed over one of his feet. Good thing that it wasn't unlocked. Gritting his teeth, he turned around, looking at the bloody remains of the creature... As well as the headless corpse of his companion. He didn't cry or shout when he saw it. He only grimaced and sighed, dropping his shoulders: With this he would be the twenty-fifth companion who fails to keep up.

He thought if it was being _too_ pretentious of him to continue with this.

He sat contemplating the remains. It had been a surprise attack, and the worst part is that this was _not_ the first. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the blood-red sunset, even more reddened by the bright red of the fires of the nearby town. He heard screams in the distance. Screams that weren't of people.

This couldn't be a coincidence. It _couldn't_ be. _Something_ inside told him, but nobody wanted to hear him... Surely, they would _realize_ it when a catastrophe of _hellish_ dimensions could happen and then...

He shook his head, rising and looking for the headless body; He had to give him a proper burial, despite not having lasted as _long_ as the others. He had no luck finding his head.

**_To be continued…_**

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**(1)** _"Help yourself that I will help you" _is a phrase erroneously associated with the Bible, when in reality nowhere is it recorded that God, or any biblical character has said such a phrase. Some say it was a popular saying of ancient Greece, others, which is a variant of what Saint Augustine said: "Do the possible thing that God will do the impossible."

**(2)** **Matthew 19: 13-15** and **Mark 10: 13-16**

**(3)** In ancient times there was a culture of atonement and sacrifice often extreme within Christianity. In the nunneries, beatings were common for the punishment of sins. The nun or the monk who couldn't do it should "stay inside their cells and mourn their sins."

**(4)** Charles John Huffam Dickens (Portsmouth, February 7, 1812 -Gads Hill Place, June 9, 1870) was an English writer and novelist, one of the most recognized of universal literature, and the most outstanding of the time Victorian.

**(5)** _"The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club"_ was the first published novel by Charles Dickens, presented by deliveries between April 1836 and November 1837. A club of extravagant characters is grouped around the protagonist, whose adventures were narrated with great sense of humor.

**Whoever _recognizes_ the character in the final part I will give a homemade blood cookie made by Mina Dragul, hehe.**


	7. Great Expectations

**VII**

_Great Expectations_

"We're going to be late! Felix!"

"I heard ya after the fifteenth time, long ears!" the black cat grumbled, letting himself be dragged by the rabbit down the narrow cobbled street, already full of people at that early hour. In spite of the mild heat, there were still traces from the last winter, being evident in the icicles of the windows and bars of the houses, as well as in the white spots of snow on the streets.

People watched with curiosity as those three children made their way through the crowd to avoid losing each other... As well as their new little blackboards that were well held under each arm. For anyone who had known them before, such as Flynn Ryder (wherever he is now...), this was a tremendous change, among the many they now had: Their furs for the first time free from dust, dirt and other vermin; simple clothes but definitely clean, that blackboard under their arms... Felix had said that all of that gave him a delicious sense of satisfaction to have that blackboard in his hands and show it, especially when he saw the faces of astonishment (and _especially _envy) of the other street children when they saw them pass with them. Oswald clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"Well, we _could _have remained like those unfortunate children, Felix. So it's important to be grateful and _not _disappoint Miss Emily..." Felix patiently heard his friend's sermon and finally shrugged.

"Once again, I heard ya at the fifteenth time you said it. What's more, you remind me every day." To his regret, the black rabbit smiled.

"Well, you always have to be reminded about that." Oswald said between stern and funny. Felix just grimaced and Zenox chuckled.

It was a tremendous change: Before of this, the routine for each morning was to go outside to take the cold and the numbness from sleeping on rags, look for a stream to drink water or wash and find or fight for a piece of food... But now they woke up in simple mattresses but without the shavings or dried pea pods of the orphanage beds, being something _wonderful_; The oatmeal bowls with bread and milk on the wooden tables was a _blessing_. Old but clean and well-maintained clothes were a _luxury_... And walking to school to learn was something they could _never _have _dreamed _of.

_...Providence._

When Emily had offered to teach them and with that, keeping with her as a company was something unique. Oswald had in fact run out of words... Was real what she asked? And as always, Felix accepted it for all of them... And on that occasion, the cat's impulsiveness had led them to something very good: The mansion was as charming as it looked from the outside, with wooden floors, marble walls with granite. The spaces were wide, the walls had impressive paintings, the sideboard tableware was silver and porcelain... And just as Emily had told them, leaving aside the servants and maids, it felt overwhelmingly lonely there. At that moment Oswald had stared at the fawn with sorrow. So were her afternoons like that every day? Amid this penetrating silence with music practices and readings while the servants only approached her to receive orders or give messages, without having a real conversation? Emily had told them that although the servants and maids were cordial and friendly, none of them had intended to talk to her about trivial things, to tell jokes or gossip... To being her friend.

"In fact, this is the _first _time I have spoken to someone who is not a servant inside this house." she had said with a sad smile.

As Emily had promised, the children would learn to read while they were with her. However, they could not sleep in the luxurious mansion as they had believed. Emily had told them that although she would have loved to let them stay in the guest rooms (which as they had seen when she did the tour, were several), but seeing the disapproving looks of the servants and cooks, they had decided in order to to avoid animosities and possible conflicts, the three children would sleep in the rooms attached to the main house where the service personnel slept. They were low buildings with simple rooms, with lounge chairs and a few furniture and little else... But for the children it was like a fairy tale, something that was enhanced by sleeping the first night in the middle of clean sheets. Every morning there would be a simple breakfast but that left their stomachs happy and prepared to go to school... Yes, for the three children this was really a fairy tale with a sweet and gentle princess that they thanked her dearly and in return they would always be her friends and confidants.

That at least was what Oswald had thought about her.

* * *

That was tested that same day at school. Emily had given them money to enter the same school where she was studying, where they could learn to read and write. Also, learn to add and subtract. It was certainly an extremely simple education in comparison for the classes Emily had every day (She had explained them to them the same first afternoon: Languages, mathematics, literature, art, natural sciences, religious sciences, piano and violin... After that, Felix asked her shocked: _"But Miss Emily, do ya sleep at some time after doing all that?!"_), but for children like them, it was a giant step.

The small building where they were was a small place with white walls and cool classrooms, but with a dozen children who wore simple clothes just like them, but were had never slept even in the streets a single day. The three children had sat together on an old and elongated wooden bench, working with their blackboards scribbling shaky shapes and lines. For Oswald it was something completely new; drawing each letter of the alphabet was a challenge, it wasn't as easy as Felix had said it would be... Just as their sheep professor, Mr. Woolensworth, had said: _"Saying words is like plain water, so anyone with mouth can do it; but expressing it on paper are a different water and you have to learn to float to be able to swim."_ ...Thus, leaning over the old blackboard, Oswald repeated the letters over and over again, until a fairly decent line was achieved.

* * *

At mid-morning break time, the three children had sat in the circular garden that served as a resting place for the little school where they were. Although it was small compared to the courtyard of the orphanage, the stone fountain in the middle and the flowers gave it a very pleasant air. The three children talked about the classes and ate their cinnamon and nut biscuits. They were waiting for Emily to leave her classes for her to show them her beautifully illustrated books of Charles Dickens... However, she never showed up. Oswald had frowned as he returned to class to scribble lines trying to form letters. What could have happened?

...And he knew it when when noon arrived and the classes were over, Oswald, Felix and Zenox went out among the small group of children, laughing at several incidents they had seen, including how a dog had broken his blackboard when he slipped with it. While they were talking about their homework (_"Practicing the alphabet to recite it in class without the board"_), when they saw her: Emily was surrounded by two boys who were her height, apparently speaking to her... But according to the fawn's face, apparently it wasn't something not at all nice. Oswald's sensitive ears caught what happened:

"You _better _give us those books, girl."

"I already told you, I can't sell them," Emily insisted, visibly uncomfortable. "I can lend them to you, but I can't give them to you..."

"I can't believe you're _stupid _enough to deny... Although there's persuasion..." And the boy, a big-horned goat, grabbed her wrist tightly... And three seconds later, Oswald was at next to them, pushing the goat with all his might, exclaiming:

"She said she doesn't want to! Are you stupid or what? Leave her alone!"

The goat had been surprised by the surprise attack, but then laughed and looked at Emily with disdain: "Now you have a dwarf as a defender, silly girl?" Emily wanted to say something, but the goat was faster than all of them, punching Oswald in the face, sending him to the floor in pain.

"Oswald!" Emily cried kneeling in front of him, while the goat laughed. "You're a coward to hit someone younger than you!"

"To learn not to mess with people bigger than him." the goat replied with an air of superiority, and then receive a ball of mud throughout the right eye. "OUCH!"

"Nice shot, little one!" Felix whistled in admiration at the orange cabbit, and they came running to his friends. "Are you alright, Ozzie?"

"Yes... I'm fine, I'm fine." the black rabbit said rubbing the cheek that was getting more and more swollen. No doubt the blow had been brutal and painful... Until a soft hand had rested on his cheek. He looked up to see Emily's sad and worried expression.

"We're going home to treat that cheek. What were you thinking of messing with him? He could have hurt you even more!" Oswald lowered his ears with shame; After taking him by the hand to help him get up, she whispered: "But... I know what you wanted to do, and I thank you very much."

* * *

Oswald sighed annoyed as he tried awkwardly to scribble the letters of the alphabet with one hand while with the other he held the arnica (1) compress against his swollen cheek. The afternoon progressed with absurd slowness and at that moment he was alone. Felix and Zenox had gone to the market to buy some ingredients for the cooks, taking advantage of their experiences on the street to haggle and find out who wanted to sell their products more expensive than they were. Oswald, still angry, had told them to leave without him, that he wanted to be alone while the swelling and anger passed. Although Zenox had doubted a moment, the rabbit's obfuscated gaze had made him leave, leaving Oswald alone in his small room.

Oswald sighed again as he looked at the ugly scribbles on his little board... It's assumed that by now he should be able to write coherent letters... But it still looked frayed and meaningless. He resisted the urge to throw the blackboard against the concrete wall. What was the point of following if he didn't achieve what they expected of him? Wouldn't he be wasting Miss Emily's time and money? And now with that fight... They certainly wouldn't want him to come back there. He dropped the chalk to the side, barely feeling the arnica burning in his fur, when a few knocks at his door brought him back to reality.

"Oswald, can I come in?"

It was Emily. Oswald jumped down from the bed to open the door, seeing that the fawn was in clothes at home and hair was loose. "How you feel?"

"Fine, I'm fine." Oswald murmured looking to the side. "I was studying." He heard an sigh from Emily.

"Don't lie to me, Ozzie." she murmured as she entered the room and looked at him questioningly but kindly. "You're not well, I don't mean the inflammation in your face." She glanced at the scribble mess that was his blackboard at the time and then she looked him sad. "If you take out what you have in your chest, maybe you can write better." She added by placing her hand gently on his shoulder. Overwhelmed by so many feelings, Oswald shook his head.

"You don't have to worry about me, Miss Emily. I've already caused too much trouble to want to know my problems... Seriously, I'm fine."

"Well, it doesn't seem like it and don't make it hard to deny it," Emily replied firmly. "Something that many people don't know is that by denying and hiding our problems, it only makes them too big to face alone..." Oswald looked at the ground, struggling with tears of rage and disappointment of himself. "...And we end up disappointing people who just want to help us." Now Oswald looked at her with red eyes. "I don't like to see you so upset and sad. And I want to help you if you let me... Do you know how they say?" 'Help yourself, that...' "

" '...I'll help you,'" Oswald muttered, finishing the sentence for her. Emily smiled at him, encouraging him to continue. Oswald looked down, looking at his hands in his lap. "I don't want to disappoint you, Miss Emily, I want to prove that you didn't make a mistake by welcoming me and my friends in your house, that I can be an educated little gentleman as they expect us to be. But... When you were being attacked in the school, I couldn't help myself... I couldn't help it, miss. I couldn't be the polite child you hope to mold as a teacher..."

"Oswald." The black rabbit stared at her, afraid to hear her answer. "You're afraid of failing the great expectations that God and providence have placed on you... and please, believe me when I tell you that you are fulfilling it and that no, it was NOT and it will never be a mistake to have welcomed you and your friends... Do you know why I know that?" Oswald shook his head. Emily's smile widened: "Because you helped me against that guy who wanted to attack me. It's something no one had done for me, and I came here to thank you, Oswald." Oswald blushed to the tip of his ears. "That means you see me as something beyond your benefactor... But as your friend. You don't know... How much I appreciate that."

"Of course, you are my friend. And friends help each other," Oswald replied with a small smile for the first time. Emily clasped her hands in her lap.

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends (2)."

"How beautiful that sounded." Oswald said smiling. "You wrote it?" Emily laughed.

"I would have wanted to have that great honor, but no: They are words of our Lord Jesus, in the book of St. John." She explained getting up. Seeing the curious face of the little rabbit, she looked animated. "Do you want me to read you more about it?"

"Can you do it? I don't want you to waste time with me when you can be doing your things." Oswald muttered with sorrow, but the female fawn grabbed him by the hand.

"You never waste time reading the word of our lord, more when someone wants to know more about it... Take your blackboard to help you with the letters, too." She added looking at the scribble mess on his forgotten blackboard on the floor. The blush of the rabbit returned.

**...**

**_"When the wind is blowing and the sleet or rain is driving against the dark windows, I love to sit by the fire, thinking of what I have read in books of voyage and travel". (3)_**

Emily's words floated softly in the silent garden while Oswald listened intently. They were sitting on the grass, so the black bunny was sitting right next to her, so he looked at the letters and drawings of the book with fascination. Emily read slowly, at a good pace, sliding a finger along the lines so that he could follow her, explaining to Oswald words that he didn't understand. Then, she placed the book on his knees to allowed him to try to read some simple words... Although several times he was wrong, feeling a fool, Emily never teased him, correcting him with firmness and affection, especially when they took his blackboard to draw letters. Compared to trying to learn with a lot of children and Mr. Woolensworth's rather monotonous tone, Oswald felt he was learning better and faster.

"Hold your fingers this way and slide the chalk, you don't have to press too hard, see?"

"Yes, now I get it! Am I doing it right?"

"You do very well, Oswald. Now do it yourself."

And then, Oswald slipped the chalk, forming the strokes that, little by little, made more and more sense.

_"Me..." "I..." "You..."_

_"Mom... "Dad..." "Son..." _

_"Sun..." "Mo-on..." "Flo-wer..."_

_"Os-wald." "Ze-nox" "Fe-lix" "E-mi-ly..." _

_Every time he accomplished something, Emily_ congratulated him, reading him a more books that got his attention. After a while, Felix and Zenox returned from the market with several cloth bags full of food and wide smiles of satisfaction... Their smiles widened even more when they saw their friend's calm and happy face, his bright eyes as he was listening something that Miss Emily was reading to him. They moved closer in silence to avoid interrupting, but Oswald and Emily looked at them. She smiled and asked how was their task and invited them to join them. After leaving things in the kitchen of the mansion, the other two children sat around Emily to listen with interest to the vivid stories written on parchment.

_**"(...) ...And where did you get the blue voucher?"  
**_

_**"I changed it to Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a cane."  
**_

_**"Tell me: what are dead cats for, Huck?"  
**_

_**"To serve? To cure warts." (4)**_

"Ummm... I'm sorry for interrupting, but... what are warts?" Zenox asked. Without being upset, Emily laughed.

"Have you ever seen the small dark lumps in frogs, Zenox?" The orange cabbit nodded. "Well, you can imagine with that how the warts are."

And then Oswald and Zenox burst out in laughs at seeing Zenox's disgusted face.

And like that the days went by; every afternoon, after finishing their respective tasks and activities, Oswald, Felix and Zenox sat on the lawn to hear Emily's soft and modulated voice when reading about different adventures. The children were impressed and especially delighted about those stories starring children like them, going through all kinds of adventures and situations. They laughed and tried to imagine themselves in those same scenes, trying to alternate them with their own adventures that had happened. Felix had asked Emily if it was possible to write a book about their own adventures when they were on the streets. Emily hid a small laugh, while holding Zenox's hand to help him write several words.

"It certainly could be done. And if someone did, I would run to the store to buy it!" she said finally with a smile.

"Really? Would anyone want to read about us?" Oswald asked in disbelief.

"If it's written in a way that connects you with the characters, just like Dickens or Twain did, alongside with other incredible authors and writers before them, of course it does."

Just as they immersed themselves in reading, Emily helped them with writing, improving faster than they did with Mr. Woolensworth. The lyrics came out less crooked and increasingly clear, they could remember the lyrics better without having to look at them... Finally, while the warm sun of May felt on the rooftops, Oswald, completely exultant and with a smile from ear to ear, looked his blackboard, reading loud and fully understanding his first sentence, seeing for the first time, his own voice embodied in chalk:

_**"My name is Oswald Abraham Van Helsing."**_

_**...**_

Under the soft morning sun that flashed the small creek that crossed nearby, the children threw themselves happily into the water... Or rather Oswald and Zenox threw themselves happily into the water, while Felix sat under an oak and watched them splashing, ignoring their invitations to go swimming or look for fish. (_"For the umpteenth time, cats don't swim!"_ Felix had exclaimed trying to avoid splashing water that his friends threw him on purpose, taking revenge by throwing nuts from the top of the tree... It was in this way that the three friends had fun on weekends that had no class or had already finished their obligations with Emily's mansion, such as cleaning and running errands. Felix and Zenox had discovered that creek in one of their errands, bringing Oswald to swim the next day, playing in the water, chasing dragonflies in the tall grass and then lying in the grass of the field, telling stories to the others. Delighted after that afternoon of fun, the black rabbit had told Emily about the place the following afternoon, inviting her to play with them... However, the female fawn had kindly declined the offer, telling him that the servants wouldn't see well that the householder's daughter wallowing in a creek. She told him that he could go to have fun, that she would stay practicing for her harpsichord recital she would have for the following week... Although she said goodbye to Oswald with a kind smile, the black rabbit could catch a shadow of sadness in her eyes at the time of looking back at the scores, staying in her room alone again.

She had once read him a fable about a very hungry wolf that had come to a farm where he had found a very well fed dog, who had offered him the comforts he had... but the wolf would have to be chained like the dog. The wolf had declined the horrified offer, for he didn't want to lose his freedom (5). Emily had finished reading with a sigh.

_"You see the moral, Oswald? The wolf could be going through difficulties, but he was free. He could walk wherever he wanted, do what he wanted... That's the most valuable thing and what you should never lost, even for a plate of lentils. " Oswald had studied her face carefully, noticing that same sadness when talking about the chained dog..._

Emily had sheltered them in the hope of becoming her friends, something that the three children had accepted with pleasure, not only because of thanks, but because she had really won everyone's heart, especially Oswald's. That is why he and the others were delighted to hear her practice the harpsichord and harp, to take her books, to be her students when she wanted to teach them, to accompany her to the church and to join her prayers with fervor and joy... But when Oswald and her friends invited her to wander around, to play in the creek or walk to the flower fields, she refused with a sad smile... She was his friend, but she wasn't like them. She had high expectations that she had to meet, obligations regarding her social status that she couldn't leave abandoned for a walk to the creek, even for a little while... She _wasn't _free.

Recalling the fable of the wolf and the dog, Oswald felt as if he, Felix and Zenox saw a sad fawn chained to a luxurious little house, wishing to join the games of the rabbit, cabbit and cat, but she never should out of the chain and the high black bars that guarded her from the outside world, from them... She was always alone, surrounded by indifferent servants, with parents who almost never came to see her for being busy with their obligations, with their expectations ... It was as if Emily was, in a way, an _orphan _like Oswald and his friends.

...That's why, every night, together with praying for the souls of his parents, Oswald prayed for Emily; for her well-being, for her happiness, for her freedom.

**...**

Several weeks later, when Oswald, Felix and Zenox knew how to read and write pretty decently, Emily, as she had promised them before, took them to the mansion's library. The three children had been speechless at the majesty of the place: It was a rectangular room, with walls lined with green cloth and a large fireplace, as well as several chandeliers that hung from the ceiling and guillotine-shaped windows where fragments of the storm outside could be seen. Wherever they looked, there were dark wooden shelves up to two meters full of books of all kinds, big as an encyclopedia and small as children books... Oswald, fascinated, slipped his fingers down the molds of the books, feeling the texture of the leather and metal... How many books would this library contain? How many books would there be in total in the world? ...In fact, Zenox had expressed his doubts out loud, causing Emily to giggle.

"I doubt that any library in the world can house all the books that have been made since Genesis... So I believe that the City of Gold **(6)** would have a magnanimous library that would have all the books in the world... Let's just wait may we be worthy of the Lord to be there."

Emily had told them that everyone would take a book they wanted, that they could go to her when they didn't understand something, and that when they wanted to read another book, she will take them back to the library to take another. With wide smiles, the children ran in all directions to take a book that caught their attention. Felix and Zenox almost immediately found something they were interested in reading, but Oswald was still searching, totally undecided... There were too many books to just choose one! He was about to ask Emily to find him an adventure or children's story book that he could read... when a few words caught his attention: **_"Hunted Hunter"_** _Hunter_... That word sounded so strange to Oswald... and so painfully _close_. Unable to contain himself, Oswald pulled it from a shelf that was near a window. It was a book covered with reddish leather with worn out copper-colored letters:

**"Hunted hunter:**

**Chronicle of the monster hunters of Europe. "**

**Charles Muntz**

Oswald's initial curiosity increased with a burning yearning that was born from his chest: A book about monster hunters, just what their parents had been! When reading the second sentence, the yearning became more intense: If this book is about the monster hunters of Europe... Then _would _it talk about his parents, the Van Helsing family...? Oswald noticed that his hands were trembling as he clung to the book; it would be that he would finally have an answer, an idea of who he is and where he had come from... And maybe... maybe even a drawing with the portrait of his parents or where his ancient house would be. Excited, Oswald squeezed it with his chest, approaching the others.

"Uff, I can't wait to read this!" Felix said with emotion weighing his book of "mental tricks and games", then he look at his friend. "What do you bring there, Ozzie?"

"Oh, it's a book... of chronicles." Oswald said while looking at the book.

"Booooring!" Felix exclaimed mockingly, then he hurriedly added to Oswald's annoying face: Just kidding, just kidding! Just try not to stay all night awake by reading it, tomorrow we have school."

"Sure, sure." Oswald muttered, sighing as he looked at the book sideways: The book wasn't exactly short; Not that it was monstrously long, but after reading fragments of books, children's fairy tales and up to forty verses of the Bible run, this would be the most complicated reading he would read... But for Oswald, the yearning to _know _was stronger than anything else.

* * *

_**"Cunning and stealthy, the hunter enters through the farthest alleys from the citadel full of rats and sewage, along the thickest and winding paths of the forest, following the tracks, the smell, the sounds... At the time of wielding the dagger, the rifle, the club and the torch, the hunter has ceased to be a man: He has become a creature of the night; he must think like them, he must feel like them... becoming like them to know how reach them and be able to see a sunrise again."**_

In the light of a lonely light made up of a thick yellow candle used by academics and legists, Oswald had been sitting on his cot since dinner time had ended, leafing through the book. According to a brief description of the first pages, Charles Muntz had been an American adventurer and known "globetrotter" (At that strange word, Oswald wrote it down on a sheet of parchment used for his writing exercise with the idea of show it to Emily the next day and have her explain him the meaning). He passed each yellowed sheet eagerly, looking for some sign of the name "Van Helsing" written somewhere, ending by reading several passages and even whole paragraphs.

The author described several places and landscapes in a very beautiful way ("Paradise Falls... It would really be a nice place to visit," Oswald thought with a smile) but upon entering the subject of hunters, Charles Muntz did'nt referred to them with profuse signs of respect, much less painting them as the brave heroes that saved many people when facing monsters as Oswald had believed... But there was a tone of disdain, pessimism... and even pity when referring to them in the introduction:

**_"(...) they can work for a church, for a guild, even for an entire community, but in the end, they are only mercenaries who seek fame and money. (...) It's an ungrateful work, where the same people who come desperately to them are the same ones who throw coins at them with the same contempt and repudiation at the lascivious gypsy woman who moves the hips in the street to the men (...) When the crops are burned by the goblins, when the newborns are robbed by the vampires, the hunters will be the culprits, the scapegoats like Jews in times of the Great Plague (7), for not having protected us, for not having cared for us... (...) do I need to explain the disquiet and darkness who have always dragged in their muddy boots and their eternally patched capes after seeing for so long the abyss (8) and what it contains deep inside...?"  
_**

Oswald couldn't bear to read more and placed the book on the desk, placing a broken piece of parchment before closing it. Then he went back to bed, looking abstractedly at the ceiling...

_What _were the hunters anyway? What had his parents _really been_? As far as he could remember, people talked about hunters with... disdain: _"(...) I always knew that risky work, almost always unnecessary and that it's just to make easy money..." "Many times they share the same bench of the gravediggers, executioners and whores: They are necessary, but people prefer them far away." "(...) it would explode in their face someday." ._..It was as if the hunters in general, including his sweet mother and loving father, were villains taken from some chilling fairy tale for children: Greedy, selfish, malicious... His father had once told him that his grandfather had been a hunter, and his grandfather, and his grandfather's grandfather... So Van Helsing's name was _cursed_? Had he been _sentenced _from the moment he was born?

_"Mother, father... I know you are in heaven with the Lord, looking at me. I know that you have seen what I have suffered since you have left. Now I am afraid to say my full name, because people see me with fear and with hate... I feel alone, confused and angry, and I don't want to feel that way... Sometimes I would like to be there with both of you..." _Oswald sighed again and raised his right leg to his face, observing the mark on his leg.

Oswald hadn't noticed the mark since the incident with the butchers. When he had regained his strength and being alone, Oswald could see it backlit: It was a cross with a superimposed "V". It was not a large mark that covered the entire sole of the foot, but if it was evident in the light and marked on his fur... It was undoubtedly a mark made by fire, as if someone had put him one of those burning irons applied in cows and horses. Oswald stared at that gray and white mark that was marked on his black fur: He didn't remember getting a wound like that at the orphanage, or on the street... That meant they had done when he was very young, when he was a baby... Who could have done that?! It was too much!

Not wanting to think more about it, Oswald turned his gaze to the desk, seeing that the thick candle was consumed until reaching almost halfway of its length... Wow, how long had he been like this? He blew out the candle, snuggling back into the darkness of the room, hearing the distant squeak of crickets... and the squeals of bats. He was exhausted but couldn't close his eye. Suddenly, Emily's soft voice is clearly felt in his brain: "By denying and hiding our problems, it only makes them too big to face alone... And we end up disappointing people who just want to help us." Oswald clenched his eyes for a moment and then he relaxed. She was right: If he hid the problem and what he felt about it, that would end up becoming a monster impossible for him to fight alone...

He had to say it. Felix and Zenox _would _listen and support him. Emily _would _understand and explain him the dark and blurry spots... He _wouldn't _be alone in this.

**. . . **

"It's ready, let me put it on you!" The little girl said happily, placing the little crown of daisies and bluebells she had made for her friend. After carefully placing it behind her ears, she stepped back to admire her work. Her friend moved to try to see herself.

"So? How do I look? Be honest."

"You would look like a forest fairy... If it _weren't_ for that spot of jam that was just over your skirt." An intense blush appeared on the girl's face, watching the bunny girl in front of her laugh out loud.

"Fanny!"

"Sorry Tensia, you asked me to be honest! Hahahahaha!" The girl's laughter ended up infecting her friend. "We can call you the strawberry jam fairy, if that seems better to you."

"Hey, I like it!" the girl exclaimed sitting flirtatiously on the rock where she had been sitting. It was always like that, any errand that their parents sent them to do was an excuse to go to the small field of flowers and play. After remembering what they had to do, the girls said goodbye and agreed to meet the next day to drink tea, as usual.

**TBC **

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**(1)** Arnica or Arnica Montana is a plant with a great reputation, widely used in rural medicine as an anti-inflammatory for bumps and cuts. The pastors and peasants of Central Europe have been using it since ancient times to treat a wide variety of ailments.

**(2)** Saint John 15:13. It is also the guild creed of Ainz Ooal Gown in the light novel Overlord.

**(3)** A Tale of Two Cities, written from April 30 to November 26, 1859, was a novel by Charles Dickens that narrated life in the eighteenth century, at the time of the French Revolution .

**(4)** The adventures of Tom Sawyer was a novel written by Mark Twain, published between 1876 and 1878, considered one of the classics of American literature.

**(5)** Refers to the fable of "The Wolf and the Dog" by Aesop.

**(6)** City of Gold is another expression to refer to the New Jerusalem, presented in the New Testament (Book of Revelations 21:9-10)

**(7)** The "Great Plague" refers to the Black Plague that razed Europe, Africa and Asia in the fourteenth century and was transmitted by fleas carried by rodents. It's estimated that it ended with more than one third of the European population and with 60 million people worldwide. In France (where Pope Clement V resided) it was reported that the Jews were accused of causing the scourge.

(8) This phrase is based on the phrase "Whoever fights with monsters takes care not to turn into a monster. When you look at an abyss for a long time, he also looks within you." of Nietzsche in the book "Thus spoke Zarathustra" (1884)


	8. Providence, coincidence, promises

**VII**

**Providence, coincidence... promises. **

Emily frowned slightly as she looked at the book that Oswald had taken out of the library, studying the passages in the pages that Oswald had marked with broken pieces of parchment (_"We have bookmarks, I have some left over for you so don't have to use pieces of paper." _Emily had kindly told Oswald after seeing them.), especially those who told precisely about the Van Helsing family.

Oswald had been able to finish the book of Charles Muntz between sighs and grimaces of apprehension when trying to find passages about his family... Although to his surprise and obvious disappointment, there was no chapter dedicated to them, much less a family tree, something that he longed to see to at least know the name of his parents, but as a "classification of famous families of vampire and monsters hunters", mentioning the Van Helsings, citing verbatim:**_ "Outstanding family of gunslingers and collectors, they had the greatest glory time during the High and the Middle Ages, as well as at the height of the Renaissance with first-class vampires, but since the 18th century there was a decline with their popularity; unlike other hunters they were more rigid in their line of work, hunting mostly vampires and hybrid vampires than other races of monsters. _**" ...Little else was there.

That's why he had asked Emily for help to help him find out more about his family, apologizing for bothering her with this. The female fawn, however, smiled sympathetically and told him that she would help him in whatever way she could. From that moment she went to the mansion library to search the index for some other book that asked to talk about the Van Helsing family or hunters in general, as well as provide other books to Oswald and his friends to continue practicing in their reading and writing.

"Can I confess something to you?" Emily suddenly asked him, looking up from the thick book that acted as the index that listed all the titles the library possessed. Oswald, sitting next to her at one of the study's mahogany tables and practicing with difficult numbers with an Arabic book of mathematics, nodded: "When you told me your full name, I was quite surprised, but said nothing, because it wasn't my business... But that last name is known, even though it's been years since it stopped to be heard on the continent..." Emily was silent in the face of Oswald's sadness. She reached out and took his hand in a gesture of understanding: "...I imagine they took you as a liar when you said you were from their family, right?" The black rabbit nodded. "Do you want to tell me about that? Maybe it makes you feel better..."

Oswald looked at her. "At the orphanage a fox once arrived who wanted to buy us to work at a factory; when I told him my last name he told me that my family had extinguished out years ago... Extinguished means _'that it ceased to exist'_, right?" Emily nodded. "Well, and he added that nobody had ever heard of _'one Oswald Van Helsing'._.. I think that what bothered me the most, apart from see me as a lier, was to say that my family no longer existed, because at that time I still believed that, apart from my mother and father, there would be other Van Helsings around... It seems that I'm really the last of my family, after all..." He muttered under his breath, looking down at the floor.

"...Even if it were, it's _no _reason to feel bad or ashamed." Emily replied with mild severity. Oswald shuddered at that, looking up at her again. She continued with aplomb: "No one knows for sure if there are no more Van Helsings here, or in the New World, or in the Indies, that only God knows; you can still search, you can still research... Books like these are those who prove to us that they existed, that they are not a farce or myth... this book is like your first step, Oswald, your first step to look for the family tree of your family... And if in the end it turns out that if you are the only Van Helsing alive today, so don't see it as a bad thing... but as an opportunity. " Emily got up from the table and, digging a little, pulled out a thick blue book, flipping through it a bit and then showing Oswald a succession of portraits of medieval-style kings. "Read this inscription, please."

Oswald leaned a little to read the small text under the illustration of a king with a crown and an ermine cape: **_"...Philip... VI, King of France... with him began the... dynasty of Valois, at the time of extinction of the Capetos dynasty, which had a total of eleven kings."_** He read with a slight frown, then looked at Emily: "But Emily, I don't understand: He was a king, I'm just an orphan from an extinct family of hunters... What does it has to do with me?"

"When I said that you shouldn't not see as something bad but as an opportunity... If you are (if it's true), the last Van Helsing alive today, you have the opportunity to _save _your family's tree... _Making _it _emerge _again from the root..." Oswald listened to her in silence and with full attention. "And that is done by getting married."

"Marrying is when you kiss a girl in a white dress in front of a priest, right?" Oswald asked her. Emily blushed intensely and after a pause, nodded. "Yes, we had seen that in some churches of the town, people used to throw rice at them and we picked it up later..." the bunny added in an embarrassed whisper. "But I don't understand: _Why _do people get married?"

Emily didn't answer right away, but looked at her hands for a moment: "...It's a commandment from God that you make when you're an adult. It's a promise you make to a girl that you want to have a family with her, have many babies, being together until death do you part..." She let out a sigh. "And that girl who marries you will have your last name, and your children will have it too... And so the Van Helsing family is rebuilt, making you a patriarch."

"A _patriarch_? _Like _Abraham, Isaac or Jacob in the Bible?" Oswald asked with eye wides and raised ears. Emily giggled, glad to see him lively.

"You could say yes, Ozzie." Oswald said nothing more, mired in his thoughts... He hadn't considered it that way. _Patriarch_... He had read about it, he had been fascinated by the story of the "first parents" of the Bible, believing that it was only from the Old Testament era... But no! Even from that time there was also, as for example that Felipe VI, who had been nothing less than a king! And if he kept reading, there would surely be more! He could be, a patriarch... Make everything start again, like that steam engine of a nearby workshop that after several attempts and blows of wrench it had come back to life... Make the tree start again from the same roots...

Oswald Van Helsing, the new patriarch of the new Van Helsing family.

...And although he apologized to God mentally for sinning for pride at that thought, at the same time he wanted to be an adult as soon as possible.

* * *

"Earth calling Oswald, are you there?" The black rabbit opened his eyes, looking at Felix's face on him, after having spent some time lying on the grass in the garden. Zenox was by his side. "We need answers and we need them now."

"What answers are you talking about?" Oswald murmured and then narrowed his eyes. "If you mean the answers of the math homework, I won't even in your dreams..."

"Again assuming things that are not, Ozzie." Felix interrupted him in a singsong tone. "I don't mean that... This time." He added when he saw Oswald's questioning look. "You've been leafing through books with Miss Emily lately, you get absorbed in that first book you grabbed from the library... Can you tell us you're hiding us, Ozzie?"

"Well, I..." Oswald fell silent when he saw Zenox's expectant face, knowing that to the innocent orange cabbit would he hardly conceal anything from him. He took a deep breath and told everything he had read so far about his family, including Emily's words that there could be more Van Helsings hiding around. Felix supported those words with enthusiasm:

"I think Emily is right, Ozzie: There is a chance that there are more Van Helsings out there... And if you really were the last one, it sounds cool!"

"It is?" Oswald asked with some insecurity. At the sincere smile of his friends, he smiled. "Emily said that if I want to know if I am the last of my family or not, I should look in other books, not only in Emily's library... But where else could we look? I don't think the school has books of those..."

The three children were silent for a moment, until Zenox clapped his hands: "Oh, I remember! There was a library by the town hall! We can go there and search!" Oswald got up with his ears raised. A new path to cross in his search!

* * *

...However, upon arriving at the place that Zenox had seen before, a medium-sized, round-roofed enclosure reminiscent of a church, with a pair of gargoyles guarding the entrance... When they entered the lobby, the person apparently in charge of the place, a female vulture who was sat in front of a wooden desk, gave them a sour look, assessing them from top to bottom.

"And what do you come here to do, youngsters?"

"Well, we came to find some books of vampire and monster hunters." Oswald said politely... Then he muted when he saw the annoyed face of the vulture. "...Can you tell us where we can start to look, please?"

"And so you'll try to steal my books or tear off pages?" she replied with an extremely poisonous tone. Oswald and his friends didn't know what to say. "Or draw nonsense and doodles on the pages? This place is for students and people with class... Not street children like all of you."

Oswald and Zenox were flushed, although Oswald was red from anger: There was still that hatred, even though they had repented of their faults and hadn't done it again. ("Jesus said it, go and sin no more" he thought angrily) ...Even the people above them looked at them like scum... Felix replied with a tone that showed that he was making a lot of effort not to snort at the vulture in the face:

"Assume things that have not happened and judge without knowing, with all due respect, madam: We are not street children, we are protegees of Miss Emily DeClaire and..."

"Yes, yes, yes... And you are also godchildren of Napoleon Bonaparte." the librarian interrupted him with sneer. The black cat ended up with a flushed face too. "As I thought. You'd better get out before calling security or better invent a better lie than that."

Oswald looked at her angrily and had in fact opened his mouth to tell her something very harsh, but then he turned to see Felix grabbing him by the arm and shaking his head. Oswald nodded and after taking an angry look at the librarian, he turned around and strode out of the place... When they were outside of the library, he couldn't avoid, driven by rage, spit aside in front of the entrance.. Although he felt bad about it in doing so, he was sure that Emily would rebuke him, and with good reason, for doing so.

"I can't believe that she saw us as rioters who are going to steal or break books... And our clothes don't look dirty like before." Zenox muttered, looking at the sleeves of his shirt with a sad gesture.

"Did you hear what she said? She didn't believe us. Surely if we bring Emily with us, she would make that horrible old woman drop the horrible bottle eyeglasses she wears." Felix said vindictively. "What do ya think guys?"

"We can't, remember that Emily is in school exams, haven't you seen how overwhelmed she was in the library these days?" Oswald replied immediately looking at the floor, decayed. Who knows how many other obstacles he would have to face to fulfill his desire to know more.

* * *

Emily's availability became much scarcer since those autumn months due to the start of the new scholar year, so it hadn't become strange to see her exhaustion face, much less dark circles in her brown eyes when she saw them at the time of dinner after spending all afternoon studying in her room... "She must be going through a lot of stress," Oswald thought, dejected, while stirring his plate of stew with vegetables. His search was stalled for now without Emily's help and now he needed her influence more than ever; every time he returned from school, the black rabbit couldn't help passing near the library to look at the door with a mixture of yearning and anger: A possible clue and was out of reach because he's not a noble or from a rich family! Every time he thought about that, coupled with those harsh words of the library female vulture, he remembered that seed of resentment that had been planted in the past in the streets... Yes, there were noble and rich people who were genuinely kind like Emily... But he was already beginning to believe that those were an obvious minority compared to others, like them.

...He couldn't think about it. He better concentrated on continuing to search Emily's library, which, understanding that she now had too much work to do, had given him and his friends access to it whenever they wanted, as long as they reported it to her and the servants beforehand.

...Thinking about Emily's servants precisely... Well, it's not that they were exactly bad or unpleasant with Oswald, Felix and Zenox, per se... But their looks weren't even half as warm and friendly as those of their mistress; As the three children slept in the same residence like them and were in charge of a little cleaning and serving the dishes at dinner, both the maids and the servants, laundry ladies and cooks kept looking at them very different, from cold indifference to marked disdain... Neither Oswald nor her friends understood that attitude, so they tried to be as diligent and careful as possible when doing their tasks and avoiding any other conversation with them that it wasn't a couple of short and dry phrases or words... And yet they had come to receive passive-aggressive comments from some of them... One in particular from a female cook who gave them a sour look when she saw them pick up the dishes that same night that Emily had sat down to eat with them with the dark circles in her eyes as a result of fatigue:

"If the master knew that Miss Emily has let in... people of this class, what scandal would he do. This girl doesn't put limits on that reckless kindness... Although sooner or later this nonsense of the good Samaritan will finish."

Although she had spoken in a low voice, Oswald's sensitive ears had caught her... And he repressed an impulse to reply to the cook hard when he noticed that Emily was looking at him because she was telling him something at that moment. He sighed and tried to ignore that comment, forcing a slight smile.

* * *

Weeks passed, earth was covered again with dead leaves and then again with ice. In the streets an intense smell of green wood was felt and the sheep crowded the stables. Wrapped in old but comfortable coats, Oswald, Felix and Zenox used a borrowed sled to carry the pieces of firewood they could collect from the forest or from nearby sawmills. Although their burden was heavy, the three children laughed and commented on the last books they had read or about certain town gossip. In the streets you could see some street food stalls with huge cauldrons serving vegetable soup and potatoes, making their stomachs roar. Upon arriving at the patio, at that surprisingly empty and silent time of day to be full noon, (Although with the darkness of the sky it didn't seem that it was such an hour), the three friends filled the shed with the logs, using a small ax to cut them in small pieces.

At the moment of raising the ax to cut his respective piece of wood, Oswald noticed that in one of the windows that overlooked the courtyard, Emily was seen, but she wasn't looking at them, but was seen being immersed in the reading of a piece of paper in her hands, possibly a letter. Even from there, the black rabbit could tell that she was smiling... Would it be a letter from her parents still abroad? He couldn't help smiling too: After all, she deserved any grain of happiness... He gained momentum and cut the log in two with a blunt blow.

* * *

This is how time passed, winter came, Christmas and New Year passed like a gale, taking with them the fresh memories of a calm but warm Christmas with Emily, who for her own emotional well-being, had decided to pause her tasks, passing a good time with Oswald and the others in the great dining room, enjoying the freshly made cakes and breads, as well as roasted turkey with cherries and different salads (Oswald especially enjoyed the one with potatoes, carrots and peas with mayonnaise (1), writing it down in his writing exercise book to imitate it on a special occasion), then enjoy the sweet wines, hazelnut milk and hot bread pudding... The children felt like they were at the witch's house from Hansel and Gretel, but removing the nasty climax. In the end the three children went out to the terrace to see the fireworks show in the starry sky, something they had seen before behind the narrow windows of the orphanage, but this time they could see it (and enjoy it) with the fresh air of the garden.

It was an image they would always remember, especially in those years of turbulent waters that they were about to cross, in a small steam boat... and without their captain.

**. o . o . o . **

_April 18, 1877_

_Four years later._

Things had changed a lot two years after that warm Christmas.

Oswald, Felix and Zenox had spent their following year's summer vacations looking for what to do when Emily was busy, now more than ever when starting a private piano lesson with a friend of her named Constance. The children watched her walk with Emily when she invited Constance to drink tea in the garden or study together in the living room. She was a fawn like Emily, blonde and blue-eyed. He always appeared with extremely expensive clothes and blowing air with her Chinese-style paper fan, even when it wasn't hot at all. Although she never treated Oswald and his friends or the servants contemptuously, there was a shadow of arrogance in her gaze, giving her an air of a viper resting by a lake.

Seeing that Emily was less available than ever, Oswald, who at first felt more and more impatient for not being able to access the town's library, was gradually forgetting the matter by occupying his mind and forces in errands and errands outside the Mansion. Yes, work and errands outside the mansion, since the servants had vetoed them from doing any cleaning or table service... And it hadn't been their fault, they hadn't broken anything, they hadn't stolen anything. In fact, they had vetoed them in a poisonously subtle way... The looks of coldness had evolved into overt hostility, causing Oswald and his friends to turn away from them.

That way, during that summer, the children spent as much time as they could outside, quickly getting bored of playing in the field or in the river, becoming interested in something smaller, brighter... Something they had had before, although illegally: Silver and gold coins.

...But this time obtained differently:

The children had discovered that in the market square there were many people offering themselves to others. Offering their strength or intelligence in exchange for money, food or even lodging... When they saw how other children of their age taking the shopping of a lady full of trinkets and scarfs to her home and she gave them some silver coins, made them gain interest on it. Could they do it just like them?

Something actually made them do it, without ceremony or opening ribbon. Throwing themselves to the sharks:

_She had gathered them in the garden at about 1PM, just when they had finished having lunch. It was late spring. Emily was sitting at the same white wooden table where she had proposed to stay with her as her protégés, something that made Oswald give her a bad thorn... And because of Emily's expression, it was:  
_

_"I have to go." She said without further ado. After the barrage of questions and dismay faces of the three children, the female fawn added: "My parents paid for a scholarship at the Vienna Academy of Music, and I can't disobey them..." Her gaze clouded with sadness, looking at the three children surrounding her, her little friends. "...And that means all of you have to leave too, the servants won't accept you here if I'm not here." Her voice cut off, lowering her eyes to her cup of tea, still full.__  
_

_It was the end. It was the end and they knew it.__  
_

_Emily had told them that although they had to leave the house, she wouldn't allow them to return to the streets... So she gave Oswald, Felix and Zenox a bag of gold, silver and bronze coins to each one, telling them that with this they could pay a room in a guest house, giving also to Oswald a paper with an address to a guest house where they could stay for a while... Already at that point Zenox couldn't contain his tears, Felix looked the ground so that his red eyes were not noticed... Oswald said nothing, his mind was blank, while his heart was squeezing in pain... She was going to leave, she was going to be hundreds of miles away from them, and with her all the warmth, all the security would go away... Providence would no longer be shining there._

__The rest of that afternoon they had spent in silence, picking up all the old clothes donated by Emily, as well as their textbooks and blackboards, a towel, as well as a last gift she gave for each one: Felix received a pair of "magic" dices; Zenox received an authentic silver lighter and Oswald, a book set in red leather that was locked with a padlock and no key... that also contained a note from Emily asking him to see her at dusk on the terrace.  
__

_When the bells of the nearby church marked the six bells of the twilight, Oswald left the serfdom building; on the bed he had left a large canvas bag where his few belongings were... That night would be the last time he would sleep on it._

_In the garden there were only sounds of cicadas that cried without comfort. Emily was sitting on the porch at the entrance, resting her elbows on her knees, looking up... Still looking at the sky, she asked aloud:_

_"Do you see that tiny star that is about to disappear?" Oswald immediately looked at the sky, seeing two stars that shone in the violet and dark blue sky, one of them was so small that at times it seemed that it would disappear. "It's a star of sixth magnitude: Although they look small, even insignificant... They're actually the largest and brightest in the universe, only that they are far away from us... I like to think that people are stars of different magnitudes..." Oswald's eyes burned from not blinking, from enduring his tears... He didn't want to cry in front of her. "...You're a star of the sixth magnitude, Oswald. Even if you are small, I know that you will go far in what you set out and in what you were destined to be... Always remember: The Providence..."_

_"...With a capital letter." Oswald whispered and then looked at her: Emily had risen and was now in front of him: With her curly hair loose and her pale blue dress shaking with the wind, she looked like one of those holy virgins painted in the churches, ethereal, melancholic and still sublime... Oswald couldn't stand it anymore and threw himself into her arms, causing Emily to fall to her knees to hug him better, feeling the black bunny melt in sobs... "Please, Emily, don't go, don't go..."_

_"How I wish I didn't leave, Oswald, but fate wanted like that..." Emily muttered, separating to look at him. "But that doesn't mean I won't forget you; you will always be here..." She pointed at her chest and made a cross. The lump in Oswald's throat intensified. Then she took a small copper key from her pocket, handing it to him: "I love you so much, Oswald... You are like the younger brother I always wanted and my parents never wanted to give me... But God gave it to me in another way. I won't ever forget you."_

_"I won't forget you either, Emily. Never." Oswald whispered, wishing not to forget that face, that voice and that warmth, begging God and the Virgin that she shouldn't fade from his mind like his parents.  
_

_That night he couldn't sleep. As he looked toward the window, the sky became increasingly clear, counting down the hours for their forced departure, Oswald looked at the book with a padlock with one hand, while with the other he was weighing the key she had given him. In the end he armed himself with courage and introduced it into the lock, releasing a dry click, revealing its interior...  
_

_O_swald woke up immediately at the first rays that filtered through the narrow window without a curtain. He blinked hard a couple of times, feeling his throat dry. He looked sadly at the aged wooden table where only a vase of dried flowers and the keys to that room, little else. He looked to the other side, where Felix and Zenox were still sleeping in their respective beds. He stretched his large feet out of bed, tidying up his disjointed bones. Narrowing his eyes through the bright summer sun in full swing, he approached the window to observe all the movement that was forming just outside down: Donkeys and horses pulling wooden carts full of vegetables, flour and lard barrels between women carrying bales of wood or bags of potatoes on his back. It was time to prepare.

After waking his friends with jerks of ears and telling them with a hoarse tone that there would be no bread for them if they didn't hurry, he went down the stairs as quietly as he could, so as not to attract problems with the other inhabitants of that old and dilapidated building of bricks where they had ended up staying to live... for now.

Oswald shivered instantly to feel the icy water of the cistern collected with a wooden bowl, he quickly passed the soapy cloth that rested in a wall ain his face and then he put water again. Before five minutes he was in his old white shirt and dark pants, sitting in the dining room, quietly chewing his respective bowl of porridge (_"Again porridge, it makes me feel like I never left the orphanage... but at least this is edible."_ he thought with a sigh) with a loaf of bread, watching as the long and aged wooden table gradually filled the other tenants of the guest house. After a few minutes, Felix and Zenox sat in the remaining empty seats, taking the remaining pieces of rye bread from the wicker basket placed in the center of the table. Ten minutes later, Oswald, Felix and Zenox had left the building, beginning to mingle with the bustling crowd.

Oswald turned his gaze for a moment to see the window of the third floor of the building: He hoped that no one would try to find something to steal in their room, although he didn't refer so much to their bags of coins, in those moments lighter... But a red leather book with a padlock whose key was now worn around the black rabbit's neck with a string... And the letter that had come with that book, now inside in his pocket, carrying them as if they were talismans:

_**My dear Oswald:**_

_**"I know you were sad since you had no more information about your family, so this is for you:  
**_

_**This will be the binnacle of your journey.  
**_

_**I think that you will have more opportunities to reach the heart of your search out there than being locked in a mansion.  
**_

_**Every time that you write down something (discoveries, information, your own thoughts...), think of me."  
**_

_**With love, Emily.**_

**TO BE CONTINUED. **


	9. Three stones in the basket

**IX **

**Three stones in the basket... And a cat on the bench **

**(in three and a half acts)  
**

Another day, another coin to add to the old pillowcase they had designated as "piggy bank" and which they had hidden under the loose table under Oswald's bed (precisely the one with more sensitive ears to catch any despicable long hand to try to snoop under his bed in search of some treasure...). They had started with just under half of the coin pile that Emily had given them all three and now they had to refill it in order to (in the future that they hoped it wasn't that far) to have their own home and not have to pay to someone else to let them spend the night.

Let's summarize the shelter where they were now: The guest house, which was only for men, called _"Tapper's Place"_ as it had apparently started as a bar and floors were added. Its owner, a mustache man who referred to himself as Tapper, had given them the rules of the game since the first night that those three 12 and 13 year old children arrived at his door: _Every _day they will paid a pension of three coins of silver. (And if they don't miss any payment for six months, he would give them an excellent discount: dos silver coins and one copper coin.), Visitors were NOT allowed after eight o'clock at night and under no circumstances should a woman stay to "sleep" in their room (The latter said it with emphasis although the children didn't understand anything), NOTHING of noise, if they dirtied the mud carpet when they entered, an additional silver coin would be added for each time they did, so they would have to drag their feet on the porch carpet for a whole minute like horses that want a lump of sugar... At the end of his rant, he handed them a brass key with the severe warning to NOT lost it, three blankets and one:_ "I hope you don't cause me problems."  
_

_"Tapper's Place"_ raised precariously its four-floor brick and narrow sash-type windows on the main street that led directly to the market square, where now not only the food stalls were the targets (this time in a honest manner) of the children, but also the possible jobs and trades to earn money. And that was the daily adventure: Get the three silver coins between the three to complete the stay and not go back to sleep in an alley or to steal others.

Usually the most common way to get a job was to beg someone in the square and, depending on the acceptable or lousy performance of your job assigned at that time, you could beg again for a job or be "recommended" to another "employer" ( although the most _honest _way to call it was to be transferred to another person as if you were a piece of furniture) and see what task they assigned you, how long it would last, how boring, complicated, repetitive or humiliating it would be and if the boss of that moment was a son of a bitch that would threw at you some coins of copper or a good Samaritan who gave you a silver coin... In short, they were in God's hands when offering their hands and strength to a possible boss.

In all that long, long time that they were adrift, Oswald and his friends had several bosses and went through several adventures (or _misadventures_, as the reader prefers). Since there are many to tell, allow me then, dear reader, to tell one for each one who got under the children's furs.

* * *

**First act: Felix and a statuette  
**

Felix had no difficulty drawing his new boss's attention: His keen gaze caught an old dog who was watching attentively a stand where they seemed to be selling statuettes that the seller assured him with solemn tone that they had been taken from the mountains of Tibet... Felix had seen him this morning placing them on the table, noticing just when one of the arms of the "God of the storm" had broken and the seller quickly redid it with nothing less than mud that he collected near there... The old dog was impressed, listening to the story that they had been carved by monks from the mountains... Although at first glance it looked like it was made by a five-year-old boy, with lousy details included.

The black cat raised his eyebrows: There was a scammer in broad daylight... Something that could be very interesting. He didn't hesitate to approach the two men pretending interest, sharpening the ear.

"Those caught my get attention, gentleman. What's their cost?"

"Three gold coins for each one," the seller replied with a confident smile.

"It's too much!" The old dog complained, but still looking at them with much interest. In Felix's eyes, it showed that the buyer was going to fall. In that, he remembers a phrase from a book that Emily had lent him once and that he had loved. He strode to the post and exclaimed: "Caveat emptor! (1)" The seller stared at him with a face of not understanding anything and looking like he was going to take out a stick to kick him out, but the old dog looked at the black cat with interest.

"Why do you say it, boy?" Felix smiled delightedly: Someone knew that phrase. He continued with poise:

"There is no God of the storms within Buddhism, so they cannot be real. If they had taken these out of the Far East or Africa, then I could believe him .. Sure, it could, if I hadn't saw him fix it with some mud from the ground this morning."

"Hey you little brat, do you want me to call the police or the neighbors to give you a shower of sticks?" The vendor threatened him, frowning. Felix began to back away, beginning to believe that perhaps he had made a bad move... But then the old dog laughed.

"What a wit you have, boy. Who is your owner?"

Felix would have snorted him at another time for such an insulting question... But he decided to swallow the offense in order to win a possible coin. He composed a wry smile and made a bow: "If by owner you're referring to God, Our Lord, he is the owner of all. But in this brief land where I have already exhausted my six lives, I'm a free child who seeks to earn his bread honestly... To serve you, gentleman, Felix Sullivan."

The seller was livid. The old dog was impressed. He gave the seller a silver coin to calm the spirits and asked the cat to accompany him, for a possible job for him. Felix waved his tail happily, bowing his head. They began to walk at a good pace, among the tingling of the crowd, and Felix turned his face to see with fun the expression of anger of the salesman when he saw that he had ruined a sale. He turned to look at the old dog, who was watching him with a wry smile from his great height.

"How did you _know _it was fake?"

"I saw him fix one of those clay figurines he picked up from the ground. Besides, there _really _are no storm gods in Buddhism." Felix declared with aplomb, making the old dog give a smile of appreciation.

"Extraordinary. When I saw you, I thought you were going to steal something or be impressed by the figures... It seems that we cannot assume things without first being completely sure of making a move, don't you think?"

Felix looked at him with bright eyes: "It's something I say a lot to my friends, especially my friend Oswald, he's somewhat impulsive."

"Impulsivity is a good thing is certain moments but you also have to take some time to evaluate the terrain and thus move your chips or cards... This will help you a lot when you grow up... Have you thought about dedicating yourself to business?"

"I had thought about it, sir. But I have no experience in handling money." Felix admitted in an embarrassed tone, but he added: "But I think if they give me the opportunity, I can learn very fast."

The dog raised his eyebrows and then laughed: "When an _opportunity _arises you should take it, _before _anyone else, because that opportunity may not come back..." He looked him up and down, as if evaluating him. "I need someone with a keen eye to evaluate some merchandise that I intend to sell to some people on the street. Let's see if this is your stroke of luck, my boy."

_"I rather prefer to say that it's more the Providence than luck," _the cat thought with a soft smile, thinking of Emily... He looked at his new employer and extended his hand: "When do we start?"

* * *

**Second act: Zenox and a candle**

While Felix was laying the first stone of his future career in business, Zenox was going through rough waters. He had decided to try his luck with a sacristan. With much shyness he had approached him inside the small chapel where he did the mass, located not far from Tapper's. He had offered to assist him during the mass in whatever it was, whether as an altar boy or the one who collected the offerings.

The sacristan gave a soft smile when he saw the sad little face of the orange cabbit, finally telling him to wait there. He left it alone for a few minutes, making Zenox look around the old organ, the stained glass with images of saints and the Holy Virgin, as well as the standing chandeliers that surrounded the dozen wooden benches. Zenox wanted to get closer to the old organ, impressed by the huge metal tubes that stood out... He was startled to hear a dry throat: He turned and there was the sacristan, clearly impatient.

"If you _finished _dreaming, Zenox, then I'd appreciate it if you could help me."

"Of course, of course. I just... I was impressed by everything here" Zenox apologized with drooping ears. The sacristan made a gesture of indifference with his fingers to make him approach, making Zenox immediately, seeing that the parish priest was giving him a matchbox.

"Light all the chandeliers, as we will offer a mass for a soul that departed a year ago." The parish priest ordered.

"That's sad, my lord. I'm sure that in heaven he must be happy that they still remember him."

"Once you win heaven, you don't remember what the previous sinful life is like. That is what the relatives do when pay for it here." the sacristan replied. Zenox didn't know what to say... But when he saw the look he was impatient of the parish priest, the child rushed to light the chandeliers... But as he approached and rubbed the matches, they turned off as soon as they lit up, some after only releasing a sad spark. The sacristan snorted: "If you want me to pay you, you must be useful, rub them hard!"

"Y-yes, yes, I'm doing it now!" Zenox exclaimed, rubbing the match hard, making a flame. The little boy smiled, and when he approached the match to dry candle to light it... An extremely large flame, as if it were a puff of fire cast by a circus performer or rather a dragon, came out of what seconds before was a normal flame.

Zenox let out a scream and released the match. Drowned moans were heard near him, something that the orange cabbit turned to see that, in front of the entrance of the chapel, there was a mole mother with two children, who had their eyes wide, petrified while looking at him...Zenox began to stutter:

"I... I don't know what happened ... It was an accident, I didn't want to..."

"Children, let's get out of here!" The mole woman shrieked away quickly from the place, to the dismay of the cabbit… And the fury of the sacristan, who was staring at him, pale as wax.

"Lad, get _out _of here."

Zenox paled, with drooping ears. "Sir... Sir, I don't know what happened, it just went on, I..."

"Get _out _of here, you _monster_, get out of this sacred place!" The priest barked, causing Zenox to flee. The boy ran away, tears flowing through his eyes, passing over the mole before, who gave him a look of distaste as the children screamed in laughter _"monster, monster!"_ while pointing his finger. Little Zenox moved as far as he could from the chapel, reaching an abandoned corner, where he crouched on the floor and burst into tears in anguish.

He didn't understand what had happened. The fireball had appeared from that match as if by magic... But he had done nothing, it just appeared! Now he had been called a monster and hadn't won a single coin... He would arrive at the guest house empty-handed. He thought of Oswald and Felix, surely working hard and getting their silver coins to pay for the stay... Oh, he would never be like them, nor strong as Oswald or smart as Felix... He was just the scared kid, the strange with long ears... And now, the monster that made fire from nothing without reason and without wanting to... Who would want to be with someone like him? Anyone who couldn't do anything right...? He lowered his head to contemplate his red eyes in a pool of dirty water, then look at his hands: They were not scorched, they were normal... There were no traces of ash in them.

"Mommy, daddy... What is this supposed to be? Do you know what it is? Because I don't know... And I don't know when I'll know," he murmured, looking at the leaden sky.

* * *

**Third act: Oswald and a bottle of liquor  
**

Oswald unconsciously touched his silver earring while looking at the aged wooden and concrete building where he was going to work today... Cleaning, mopping and drying the floors. This house had two floors and sure it would take him all day, but at least they had promised him three silver coins if he made it perfectly and he was willing to try his best. He squeezed his fingers on the cheap broomstick he had bought because Mr. Tapper refused to lend his own. He armed himself with courage and knocked on the door knocker (in the form of a somewhat terrifying griffin) firmly.

He waited a few seconds... Until someone opened the door and stared at him with arched eyebrows: He was a blond man in imposing armor that was three heads higher than him. The man exclaimed in an extremely pompous tone: "Greetings, little friend! Captain Phoebus at your service! Are you coming to ask for assistance to end an evil minion...?"

Oswald blinked: "No, I came to clean your floor, Sir. Mr. Tapper sends me." Phoebu's disappointed face was evident, then cleared his throat.

"Oh yes, of course, of course." You can… come in." He stepped aside for Oswald to pass, then added in a somewhat aggressive tone: "I hope not see any dirt when I pass my finger later, did you understand child?"

"Yes, sir," Oswald replied through clenched teeth, enduring the urge to hit him with the broomstick for _accident_. He contemplated what was a fusion between the lobby of a store and a bar, with chairs and rickety chairs, almost all in different styles. A fire crackled loudly in the fireplace, giving some light to the somewhat dreary place. The decoration was simple, almost Spartan, with narrow windows and a couple of paintings depicting wars. In the far corner, on a wide desk, there was a morse code machine and a huge book full of notes that one of the occupants of that house, a large duck wearing a white mask with holes, was using, filling with beeps sounds all over the place.

_This _was the headquarters of the monster hunters' guild in the town of Sighisoara: A _dilapidated _guest house like _Tapper's_.

Oswald couldn't help thinking that, had it not been for the long stable full of horses outside, he wouldn't have believed that this was where they gathered to rest the men who risked their necks when fighting beasts of darkness, those who "shared the same bench of the gravediggers, the vergudos and the whores": Men with long trench coats and curious hats with glass goggles that from time to time entered and left the place, almost always speaking in whispers or drinking a beer mug with an extremely boring expression looking at the fire; All that had nothing impressive, nothing of the glory that Oswald had seen in his short childhood with his parents... Only pure decay and deterioration that Charles Muntz had spoken in his book before, like a musty tree that lost its leaves of little by little.

When Tapper had asked the three children if anyone wanted to work cleaning the village hunters' guild, neither Felix nor Zenox moved a finger, leaving a tacit silence that gave Oswald all the "honor" of that job... The black rabbit was excited: He was going to know where the town's monster hunters met, maybe he could talk to them and... maybe... _maybe _some of them would have met Mr. and Mrs. Van Helsing, or Grandpa Abraham... maybe some uncles or cousins ...

"Lad, are you going to stand there all day or are you going to work?" Oswald jumped a little, turning to see a tall hunter with a prominent beard and white robe, who was looking at him severely. The black rabbit murmured an apology and announced that he would begin. The man growled, stroking the handle of his dagger that rested on his waist: "Just don't touch anything or take anything away... You know what happens to thieves when they get caught... right?"

The image of the thief fox's cut hand in the public square was still _vivid _in Oswald's memory... "Of course, sir. I just want to work honestly." Oswald said , bowing his head. The hunter gave a head and walked away to the telegraph table, asking the duck in the white mask when he was going to finish using it. A sullen growl was the answer.

Oswald began to move the broom throughout the room doing everything possible not to make noise or get in the way of the hunters who were entering and leaving. He concentrated on each side, passing the broom twice in each corner to remove the cornered dirt, pushing hard to lift the layer of dust and dirt that, needless to say, was thick, as if no one had cleaned there in months. He went to the second floor where the guest rooms abounded and, as far as Oswald could see, a small storage room. He knocked on each door to see if anyone was occupying them, noting that they were all empty, only with a bed and a closet. There was nothing interesting, nothing to attract attention, even for a former thief like him. He just did his job: Cleaning, rubbing, mopping... By the time of lunch Oswald had already passed the broom twice on the second floor and was trying to ignore the growls of his stomach. He had to go on. There were three coins, _three _silver coins...

"...Not bad, kid. Take it, for the good work," the white-robed hunter from before had told him, who introduced himself as Kevin Flynn, when the clock stood ringing a bell at six in the afternoon. Oswald was sitting in front of the bar, and Kevin Flynn offered him an iron cup with an alcoholic beverage from a whitish bottle. The black rabbit drank the liquid that looked like water in one swallow, and then he felt an intense heat scorching his throat and made him cough hard. Kevin Flynn looked at him with fun. "First time drinking schnapps, kid?"

"I've only drank beer before," Oswald said, putting a hand to his chest, feeling the heat spread even down his stomach. "I'm done sir."

"I see that," Flynn replied dryly as he reached into his bag and pulled out a cloth purse. "Let's see, three silver coins for Oswald... Oswald what?"

"Oswald... Van Helsing," Oswald murmured uncomfortably, not knowing what unexpected reaction this new person would have to ask his full name. Oswald had met eloquent silences, shrill laughter on his face, and even direct: 'You're kidding'... But Kevin Flynn lowered the schnapps bottle again on the table, staring at him. Oswald felt uncomfortable in the small wooden chair, but refused to look away. "_That is _my name, sir. That's what I've _always_ called myself."

"...I see. Wow, lightning strikes me, a Van Helsing after _so many years._" Flynn said, twisting his mouth, placing the silver coins on the table. Oswald took them and his first thought was to get up to leave... But he also wanted to try: Maybe that hunter could know something... He sat down, lengthening the iron cup to receive more. Kevin Flynn smiled crookedly and served him some little schnapps. "I thought you would leave now, but now that you have told me your name, I would like you to _satisfy _my curiosity, lad."

"I will if you satisfy mine, sir." Oswald had no idea _why _he had said that, as if alcohol drove him to talk _more_... However, Kevin Flynn smiled.

"It seems fair to me, lad. I start first." He took a drink of schnapps directly from the bottle. "_Aren't _you _inventing _anything?" Are you _really _a Van Helsing, the family of hunters?"

"Yes," Oswald replied firmly, shaking the glass of liquor. "But my parents died when I was little and I ended up in an orphanage where I escaped with my friends and we've been on our own since then... Do you know anything about my parents, Mr. Flynn? Did you meet the Van Helsing family…? " he added in a tone full of yearning… But the grin Kevin Flynn showed _wasn't _a good sign. The hunter sighed.

"I wish I _could _satisfy your desire for knowledge, lad, but... I _only _know that the Van Helsings once were a powerful family among the hunter's guilds, but I never met them personally... Very _few _hunters of the old school, like Darkwing Duck, had a _much closer_ contact with the Van Helsing clan until about twenty years ago, more or less... They just disappeared and nothing else was known... Until now, since apparently I have to a Van Helsing in front of me." Flynn replied. Oswald couldn't help lowering his ears sadly. The man cleared his throat. "Well, I couldn't quench your curiosity, try with another question."

"Yes, yes..." Oswald muttered, breathing deeply to overcome his disappointment. "Why does the hunter's guild look like _this_, all abandoned and damaged? Don't people hire them anymore?" Kevin Flynn's eyes shone. "I'm sorry, excuse me, I don't know if the question is too personal..."

"We are in times of _skinny cows_, Oswald. There has been no real work in this region since a couple of years. In addition to the few jobs there are like looking for a runaway wife or a husband who got lost drunk on a mountain or cleaning the pipe of rats... I mean, jobs that even a simple labourer like you could do, but for people like _us_? Although _sometimes_... it's time to swallow pride to bring bread to the table. And then the problem appears: Either nobody wants to do it without charging dearly, or there are too many offering for too little... The atmosphere is not the best and many are impatient or desperate." He sighed and wiped a drop of sweat from his mustache. "...If things continue like this, this place will no longer be profitable and the hunters will go to seek fortune elsewhere, where the grass is _greener _and there are more fish to fish, if you understand what I say." He ended the explanation with a long drink.

Oswald was silent, unable to ask what he had on the tip of his tongue:_ "What would happen if a threat, a monster, a... vampire comes to town and there is no hunter to face it...?"_ He decided to limit himself to commenting: "It seems that being a hunter is being like a migratory bird."

"Tell me something I don't know now, lad," Kevin Flynn said, taking another drink. "Either you move or you die. It's like in the wild." He yawned. "You should leave now, don't you think so?"

"Yes sir, thank you very much for your kindness in giving me a job." Thanks also for... telling me what you know, I'm grateful." Oswald said goodbye, bowing his head. The hunter made a gesture of diminishing importance.

"You did a job and you did it well. The worker is worthy of his salary, never forget it. I may call you to return this presentable place when I have to sell it."

**...**

**Third act (and a half): Ortensia.**

Oswald was heading back to _Tapper's_when the sound of an organ made him stop. In one corner there was a mass starting in a near chapel. He hesitated a moment, as it was beginning to get dark and he had a ravenous hunger that the schnapps had only increased it... He still needed to talk to God, let out the disappointment of not having found anything in his family in the guild, and the decadent atmosphere of the place had only contributed to make himself feel worse... Like Emily had said several times, when one wanted to speak with God it was imperative to do so, so he decided to enter.

Apparently many had the same need to speak with God, so the chapel was full of people. After standing all day, Oswald wanted to sit on a bench, so he circled the twelve wooden benches in search of a free spot. Whenever he found one and tried to sit down, they didn't leave him with phrases like: _"Its' occupied, look for another place"_, noting that almost all the occupants were people in elegant clothes and jewelry... The kind of person that Flynn Ryder spoke badly, but they were also like Emily; Even so, he felt humiliated by the parishioners' disdainful looks... Suddenly, _something_caught his attention: A black female bunny of his age or maybe a little younger than he was a few benches ahead. From where he was could see her face, her dark eyes and a beautiful green hat with flowers on one of her ears... He couldn't stop seeing her leaning over the bench, moving her lips to say a prayer... How he wanted to go to sit next to her and be able to see her more closely, but she in a bench totally occupied. He don't know he could sit there even if there was a free spot, _no doubt_ because of his sweaty clothes and lack of shoes...

"Excuse me, are you looking for a spot? You can sit here."

Oswald turned to the voice, seeing that a female black kitten with piercing green eyes and a hat identical to that of the bunny, but this time pink, was looking at him on the bench next to him. Beside her were two black cats, an old man and a child younger than her, who supposed they should be her family. Oswald blinked confused, thinking she was talking to someone else... But the female black kitten was looking at him with a kind smile, and then gave him a space next to her. The black rabbit, hesitantly, got into the bench and sat right on the tip, next to her.

At that moment it was beginning the moment of liturgies was over and now it was time to pray. The parish priest waved a bell and began to pray aloud, causing everyone to kneel down to pray. Oswald imitated them, closing his eyes and moving his lips in silence, pouring his heart before God and the Holy Virgin. He prayed for everyone, for Flynn Rider, wherever he is; for Emily, who is triumphing in her classes in Germany and could be free; for his friends to have good employers and not end up in the street... And then he _poured_his heart about the painful _enigma_of his family, _farther_and farther... and the faces of his parents more and more diffused...

When the mass was over, a whirlwind of people enveloped Oswald while they sought out the chapel. The black rabbit tried to approach the female black bunny, but at that time she was surrounded by several relatives, so he didn't dare to approach. In that, the female black kitten from before approached him. Oswald could see her better: Her face had delicate features and wearing clothes as elegant as almost everyone present, but her smile was soft, kind, with a _shadow_of Emily on her. Oswald couldn't help smiling too.

"Thank you for leaving me space, miss." My name is Oswald. What's yours?

"Ortensia. Do you come here a lot? Fanny and I come to our catechesis classes on weekends, but we have never seen you here."

"Ortensia, let's go!" A harsh voice cried suddenly: It was the old cat who had come with her, wearing a dark top hat and cloak, who glared at her... Or rather to Oswald. She smiled at him uncomfortably and then she said goodbye kindly to the rabbit, approaching her family.

Oswald also left, feeling a little happier.

**TBC**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**(1)**_Caveat emptor_ is a Latin phrase that literally means "careful buyer." Other less literal translations would be or "as is how it is sold, take the risk".


	10. Van Helsing: Legacy of a name

**hade:** We arrived at the part EVERYONE expected! The part that marks Oswald's baptism of fire as a hunter. I'll leave the comic here, credits and infinite love to _Twisted Wind**:**_** twisted-wind/art/legacy-of-a-name-pg1-253810920**

**Warnings: **Violence and gore in several parts.

**X**

**Van Helsing: Legacy of a name.**

Two years have passed since those times of skinny cows. Everything was gradually deteriorating until it finally happened: The hunters of the Sighisoara Guild left. Like migratory birds that fly off before the first winds of winter arrive, the so-called _"professionals of darkness"_ disappeared, one by one. And nobody in the town moved a finger to prevent it, even if only one remained; in fact, they seemed happy that _"those crows who think they can earn easy money by driving away bugs have left town"_, as one of Oswald's bosses said in those days with disdain... The black rabbit hadn't said nothing, he just kept silent while doing his assigned task of that moment, swallowing his thoughts.

At first everything remained in the same town since the last hunter, precisely the guild leader, Kevin Flynn, took his last savings and disappeared under the pale sun of a first of November. Oswald couldn't help crossing the street where the dilapidated building was, now being used as a tool store, with the absurd hope of seeing again a scarred or aged face with a hat with glass goggles or guns in the belt... The nearby stable had become a sawmill, disappearing the trunks that had been arranged by the hunters to practice their shots. Oswald was sure that if he ever entered there under any pretext, all traces of the hunters, from the old morse code machine, the bar and the stained pictures would have been swept under the carpet, as if they had never existed... For the black rabbit, it was like a kind of inexplicable emptiness.

Gradually people talked less about them, to the point of that the only and last vestige of the existence of the monster hunters in that small town was, precisely, the existence of the alleged last descendant of an extinct (and sadly famous) family of hunters: _Oswald Van Helsing._

If Oswald was given a copper coin for all the times he received adverse reactions every time he mentioned his (damn) last name, he would have enough to send Mr. Tapper to hell and live on his own... The faces of curiosity or commiseration, the mocking laughs, even the passive-aggressive comments like: _"The other hunters have long since left, you should do the same, Van Helsing... Since nobody wants them here."_, ...All that, little by little, was also deteriorating in Oswald's mind, already at a thousand per hour due to the turbulent era of adolescence: Just as his body changed (he was a little higher, but he was still the same weakly rabbit as always), his perception (about everything, _including _all his life) also did it... Clouds were coming to obscure everything, just like the same December sky. Lately Oswald spent some time sitting on the swings of the first park he found, playing random forms on the cold ground with his huge feet.

Wouldn't it have been _better _if he had been born into an _ordinary _family from the beginning? Yes, perhaps he would have lost his parents anyway, in some way, through wars, diseases or evil hands, it's true... But at least he wouldn't have that bad reputation without deserve it, that stigma, that annoying shadow that followed him everywhere...

**_"March of 1880:  
_**

**_I write these words while I look at the window, thinking of you. How are you? Are you having a good time there? Do you think about us? We here, at least, yes.  
_**

**_A couple of years ago I had the opportunity to go to the hunters' guild, and well, I had bad luck looking for information about my family... More than two years have passed and I still don't know, I still have no answers... Sometimes I think that it would be better to forget all this and invent a new last name... Van Helsing. I feel that I'm named after a criminal rather than a family of hunters that no longer exists. Now that the monster hunters left the town for lack of work, now the teasing is worse. If it weren't for Felix and Zenox, I would have gone nuts.  
_**

**_I have you in my prayers, Emily. I hope we are also in your-"_**

Oswald cursed under his breath as he lowered his battered feather when he saw that his ink had run out. He was curled up in front of a small window on the third floor of the guest house, staring at the sky. He liked being in that corner, with his pillow not to sit on the floor, a candle and a piece of writing paper, so as not to disturb his friends while they slept. He looked up to contemplate himself in the dirty window, noticing his dark eyes and the earring of his ear around of his slim face. He leaned against the wall, contemplating the mountains beyond the limits of the town, wondering if it wouldn't be a bad idea to start saving to leave that town and start somewhere else.

* * *

_"What would happen if a threat comes, a monster, a... vampire into the town and there is no hunter to face it...?"  
_

That's what Oswald had wanted to ask Kevin Flynn that night, but he hadn't dared to say it out loud...

...But time was in charge of explaining _very generously_ to the black bunny (and incidentally, to everyone around him) what would happen:

Time passed and a dark force reached the region of that town. A dark shadow that began as a rumor, and then spread like a malignant cancer throughout the town and its lands. A shadow whose dawn was the moment that the sun was setting, and then slid through the streets of the town in search of an unsuspecting victim. First it was a guard who appeared lying in a corner of the square, his throat sliced from side to side so violently that many doubted that it had been a simple thief. Later was a prostitute that was found traversed on some stairs, with violent and deep claw marks all over her body... Had it been a wild animal, a bear, maybe a pack of wolves? Then, a week later, a three-year-old girl appeared inside a fountain, disemboweled and with a cut that began from her genitals to her stomach. A preventive curfew was established, believing that they would be lunatic murderers... But after the first night of the curfew, the town woke up in horror: The group of armed guards who had been dispatched to watch was found at the edge of the forest, totally disemboweled, and all with teeth marks on the neck.

After the days, nobody had the slightest doubt: They were under the attack of a monster. Specifically, of a _vampire_. And now the town had _no one_ to face it.

At first they tried to make desperate contingency plans while trying by all means to contact a hunter in the area: Any person that had vampire marks would be beheaded or burned, _regardless _of whether the victim had survived the attack... In this way, it would prevent the person from becoming a vampire or a ghoul and attack to others **(1)**. Under that modality, _many _were thrown into the flames: Men, women, children, elderly and babies. The fires became the usual spectacle in the main square, in a desperate attempt by the people to calm their terrors... The authorities sent more and more urgent letters, morse code messages increasingly desperate, without result. None of the old hunters of the old guild responded to the cries for help. Every week there was a new corpse to behead, to burn, to scatter its ashes... And then retreat to their homes just before curfew, clinging to their crucifixes, trembling with fear, believing they would wake up with the icy death breath of the vampire in their jugulars and his infernal eyes looking into their eyes before everything ended in an atrocious _pandemonium _of disemboweled viscera and blood dripping everywhere.

Basically, they were at the mercy of the devil. And he had designated Sighisoara as his _personal _buffet table.

* * *

He left the pub sighing. Although he had a full belly, he felt an emptiness and heaviness in his soul that not a good jug of hot mead** (2)** with spices had managed to fill him. The gray sky, even though it was only ten in the morning, didn't contribute to improve his mood. He adjusted the purple cape over his shoulders to wrap himself better and the gray wide-brimmed hat to prevent that some sudden cold wind took it flying away. He looked up, noting that there were rickety wooden boards that pointed to the nearest villages:

**"SIGHISOARA: 200 KILOMETERS NORTHWEST"**

**SATU MARE: 320 KILOMETERS TO THE EAST "**

"They don't give me many options now, huh?" He murmured, searching in one of the multiple pockets of his coat to take out his compass, seeing that the red arrow was pointing to his left to point the north... That was where he should go. He sighed again as he went to the pub stable in search of a horse fresh enough for the ride: He hoped this was worth it and he managed to find something interesting... "They say that in the north there is a little town ravaged by a vampire, and they say the bad tongues that ran out of defenses, hehehe." He had heard the bartender say in the pub... Well, nothing was wasted by trying and seeing what a good thing he could get out of there. He rode a sturdy Shire horse **(3)** of good size, since he wasn't thinking of a walk in the forest but of going as fast as possible.

When he left the stable, he took out the compass again, but when he finished confirming the north point, he sank a tiny button with his middle finger, opening a secret little window inside the compass, looking longingly at what was in there before close it. A long trip was waiting for him.

* * *

...Oswald blinked in surprise, still staring incredulously at the elderly pig and in elegant clothes, which was practically kneeling in front of him. For Oswald it was an absurd, almost _unreal _scene.

Night had fallen and Oswald had sat down again in his favorite corner to write, but at one time he had fallen asleep, his face glued against the dirty glass of the window... Until one hand had rested on his shoulder, shaking him. Oswald had opened his eyes with a growl, murmuring apologies to Mr. Tapper for having fallen asleep there, but when he focused better, he noticed a pig with a mustache and beard, along with a couple more men, all in elegant dark suits and top hats, contrasting with Oswald's old clothes. The rabbit left the handwritten sheet on the ground and asked what they need. Was it some work to do, despite the curfew? The pig came forward.

"Oswald, as you can see, we are under siege by a vampire. Two months have passed and that hellish beast has bitten and dismembered more than 30 people, between them women and children... We have no defenses, no hunter has appeared to help us..." He paused to sigh. Oswald looked at him without saying anything, wondering where the old pig wanted to go with all that... "We have _no _choice: _You _have to go, Oswald."

After a few seconds of silence, Oswald let out a... "WHAT?! ME?!" And he was stunned, believing he had heard badly, but then the old pig fell to his knees, sweating profusely and looking completely desperate.

"We'll pay you for your help, a bag with fifty... NO, one hundred gold coins, if you get rid of that monster! Please... please, Oswald, we are desperate!"

Oswald leaned back, feeling his back touching the window, feeling increasingly confused... And upset: He had to go and kill the vampire... And for what reason!? He was just a fifteen year old boy! What could he do than a guard or a policeman couldn't?! Oswald was sure that if he went there to face the vampire, he would be like a shattered rabbit in less than a minute of combat... Was this a kind of sick joke? Was it April's Fools day, wasn't it? Then he noticed the faces of Felix and Zenox, looking at him in dismay among the small group of curious people who had approached. Oswald asked indignantly: "And _why _would I have to do that?!"

The answer wasn't long in appear... And he left the rabbit perplexed: "Because you _ARE _a Van Helsing!"

Suddenly, more voices began to emerge from the crowd of people: _**"It's your duty to kill vampires!" "Isn't your last name Van Helsing, boy? Then show it!" "Heh, I always knew this kid was lying: He's not a Van Helsing: If he is, then he has to prove it..." "Are you going to refuse this, Van Helsing? Think of the babies that have died for that vampire, they will point you from the sky at why you turned your back on them!**_" ...Felix and Zenox said nothing; they simply stared at Oswald in silence, feeling outnumbered and overwhelmed. The shouts and claims were too much for Oswald, who ended up exclaiming "ALREADY IS ENOUGH!" And before the silence he provoked, he closed his eyes... "Alright, I… I'll do it."

People yelled with joy: At last the monster would be defeated! Oswald looked for his friends, who approached him, circling him in his arms: Felix's lips were tight. Zenox was sobbing weakly.

The town had _happily _condemned their friend to die.

**...**

Two nights later, a lonely figure crossed the chipped wood fence that separated an old abandoned chapel, already in ruins by the years with the cemetery of the countryside. The twilight had long since passed, and with it, the time allowed to be outside. The full moon, hidden between clouds of a possible storm, projected from time to time elongated figures in the undergrowth, old gravestones and statues of angels and saints scattered around. Although he kept his ears stretched to catch any strange sound (for now the only sounds were crying from cicadas and distant shrieks of bats), he couldn't prevent a growing sense of rage from starting to heat up inside him like boiled water... That sensation increased when he stopped in the middle of the cemetery, just in front of a tombstone. The marble-white color of the tomb clearly reflected Oswald's silhouette inside it by the moonlight.

This is how he was going to end, if the same people who were responsible for throwing him to the beasts would have the same _enthusiasm _when they found his remains (Well, if the vampire _leave _something...) ...Because most likely he will end in a mass grave like all the other poor devils who could never afford for a grave, much less a mass to be remembered. He pressed his fingers over the gun, still inside the leather holster: It was the old pig who had lent it to him; He would only have that against the vampire... They just sent him there because he is a...

"_Van Helsing_. They've sent me here… _because _my name is Van Helsing." Oswald muttered to himself, feeling that the accumulated rage was about to boil inside and explode. "Why…?" He looked at the floor, where there was a half-buried board on the floor and then he kicked it away, exclaiming, closing his eyes: "_Why _I have a name so _unlucky_?!"

A growl near him made him open his eyes, looking around without blinking. His ears completely up, attentive to any sound... A tiny exhalation to his left caused him to jump, seeing horrified that, where he had been standing a few seconds ago... Now there was a young, horribly skeletal individual, with black ruffled hair and skin as pale as a corpse. Oswald's astonishment lasted only a few thousandths of a second, as the creature jumped with an abnormally agile and knocked down the rabbit on the ground, staying on top of him. Oswald groaned in pain when his back hit the cold floor of the chapel, feeling the vampire's claws grab the side of his head so that his neck was fully accessible; a stench of blood and death seized his nostrils when the creature opened its jaws, revealing its fangs, flashing terrible in the gloom; A couple of centimeters separated them from his exposed throat... Oswald shouted "MONSTER!"... And a fist punched hard against the vampire's cheekbone, pulling him away from him.

Oswald took advantage of those precious seconds to unsheathe the gun and try to shoot the creature, but the vampire was much faster and launched a quick blow with his claws that sent the gun to fly away. Oswald turned in horror, and then saw the vampire made another much more devastating blow, this time in his chest, burying the claws deep in his fur and pushing him back. Oswald fell back, feeling a spurt of blood escape from his mouth until he landed on a stone table that was apparently the old altar of the chapel. Oswald squirmed in pain, holding his chest where he felt the blood of the deep wound spilling out of control... He was starting to get dizzy... In a few seconds everything would end and he would be with his parents in heaven... Or maybe with Flynn Rider in hell.

He turned his head heavily to the side, seeing a shattered image of the Holy Virgin behind of the altar... That kind face in stone would be that last thing he saw before being slaughtered... Noting that near him lay a stone sword, aged and almost broken. Then, Emily's voice echoed, far but clear, in his mind:

"Oswald, concentrate! Focus to finish writing the sentence! Come on, you can do it!"

He reached out his hand with great difficulty, until his numb fingers grasped the hilt of the sword, just at the moment when the vampire got on top of him again to end him... A howl crossed the quiet graveyard and came dragged by the wind until the same town of Sighisoara...

"AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH... !"

...The vampire was wide-eyed as he felt the tip of the bloody sword protrude from his back, starting right where his frozen heart was. The vampire released some bubbling sounds and then vomited blood between coughs, falling the blood over Oswald's bruised face, who had his eyes closed, full of tears... A dull sound was the last thing the vampire left when he collapsed next to the black rabbit, finally dead. The altar began to drip streams of blood that reached the cold ground. Silence seized the chapel and the cemetery again, only broken by the cicadas, the bats... And the stony sounds that Oswald made when he was trying to breath. He slipped down slowly out of the altar, touching his face and seeing his hand, stained with blood. He felt as if nothing that was happening was real, as if it had all been a dream... A cold of death shook him, making him tremble. The smell of blood reached his nose, only whispering to himself:

"The vampire... The vampire is dead!"

He heard shouts from afar, causing him to lift his head: In the distance he saw a mob of villagers, with torches and machetes in hand, running towards him. Oswald took hesitant steps toward them, still feeling the blood dripping down the fur of his chest and his eyes clouded by tears, waiting for immediate attention... But then the same crowd threw him aside, pushing him to the ground, ignoring him completely to go see the vampire's body. Oswald lay on his stomach, trembling from the pain that was going through his body... Trembling at the sobs that had been born inside his chest. He was confused by the cries of the crowd, so he couldn't recognize anything or anyone around him. He began to crawl on the ground, with great difficulty, hoping to find somewhere to hide and lick his wounds in peace before returning with Felix and Zenox... When suddenly a pair of hands had taken his face, forcing him to look up... To meet a pair of emerald eyes, twitched with affliction.

"Oswald..."

It was _her_, that female black cat he had known in the church a long time ago and with whom he sometimes crossed when he went to the house of some new job, who had given him a free spot on the bench and had spoken kindly to him... That young woman apparently from an aristocratic family, due to the fine dress she wore below to a coat of ermine skin. Oswald couldn't remember her name exactly, but, for some reason, he was sure it was the name of a flower. She had knelt in front of him, still cradling his face in her hands, looking at him with concern, not with fear or contempt like the others... _Before _he could be aware of what was going on, the rabbit felt wrapped in a warm hug, so Oswald couldn't help it: He pressed himself tightly against her chest, clinging to her arms like a buoy, letting tears ran in uncontrolled sobs, feeling the female cat's hands slide down his ears, giving him a sense of security, like what a child would feel in a mother's arms after a horrible nightmare.

"It's okay, everything is okay... he's already dead." Oswald heard her say softly, still stroking his ears... The words '_He's dead' _was like a cold blow that made his adrenaline levels go down first time in that night, making him aware of what was happening between the screaming of the people that still resonated near them: He was dead, the vampire was dead... And he had _killed _him. He opened his eyes, noting that the neat bodice of the female cat was now stained with his blood.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't want to bother you... I'll leave now!"

"What are you talking about?" the female cat replied, perplexed to see him get up. "Can't you see that you may be hurt...? Oswald!"

The rabbit hadn't even made two steps when he had collapsed again on the ground, gripping the deep wound of his chest, breathing hard. With the blurry sight and almost about to faint from exhaustion, he saw the shadow of the female cat hold him again against her as she shouted something at someone (_"Miss Tweed, quick, he's hurt, please help me!"_) And then finally let himself be overcome by the sensation of falling through a long dark tunnel, blurring the lines that formed the face of the young woman who kept saying his name.

* * *

He was awakened by a strong smell of alcohol, incense and other substances that he couldn't recognize that was permeating his nose. He opened his eyes with the feeling that his eyelids were replaced by lead; At first he could only see blurry figures and luminous dots on the ceiling. His head was spinning and a sense of unreality seized him... _Where _was he?

Some things were certain at that moment: He was still feeling the pain in his chest and other parts of his body, although noticeably smoothed... Which would mean that he wasn't dead yet and he wasn't in Heaven (He was sure that in the Heaven didn't smell so strange...), and most prominent: His back didn't longer feel the cold ground of the chapel and the cemetery, but the unmistakable softness of a mattress.

In the middle of that almost esoteric discovery, he noticed that his eyes began to focus better around him, transforming the dots of light into a candle chandelier that hung from the ceiling, bathing the place with a reddish glow, although somewhat annoying for him... Oswald had stretched his left arm to try to cover his face, but he froze when he saw his hand bandaged. Stupefied, he sat up slowly, hissing with pain, to see himself better: He was shirtless and there was a huge bandage on his chest, right over his heart, the exact point where the vampire had deeply scratched him. When he removed the blankets over him, he noticed another bandage on his right leg... The black rabbit stared at that in amazement, trying to remember the last moments before losing consciousness.

Grunts, blood, screamings, a push, vision blurred by tears and pain, the soft and vaguely familiar voice of a woman speaking to him as she ran her fingers along his ears...

A knock at the door made him jump and turn with his nerves altered, hoping it wasn't the vampire who had risen from the dead to finish killing him... Only to see in his place the same female black cat that had embraced him, now with a scared face and almost dropping the silver tray that was in her hands, filled to overflowing with small bottles of different sizes and shapes and little white cloths.

"Aaaaaaahhh!"

"Aaaaaaahhh!"

"...I'm so sorry, I didn't want to scare you!" She exclaimed, hurrying up to him, leaving the tray on a small table by the side of the bed and sitting on the bed, making Oswald as nervous as a cornered stray dog in an alley, looking at her apprehensively. "I didn't think that you would wake up so soon, and I thought maybe you were going to get altered because you wouldn't know where you are... " She flashed a soft smile while looking to his eyes. "But fear not, you are safe here." Oswald said nothing, just watched her as she sat on the bed in front of him, looking at him with a strange expectation, as if she wanted to know his next reaction. Noticing the mute interrogation in the somewhat hostile (but mostly apprehensive) dark eyes of the black rabbit, the female cat continued: "You fainted because of the wounds and the loss of blood, my nanny and I brought you here. See? This is my house, this is one of the guest's rooms... " She said pointing to all the room. Then she made an extrange expression when she looked back at him, an almost... motherly expression, full with compassion: "...That vampire made you a lot of damage... " she murmured, staring at the bandage on his chest. Oswald, by pure reflection, crossed his arms so that she wouldn't see him; She didn't do anything in response of that, only composed a soft smile, "...but at least we managed to _stop_ the bleeding and clean the wounds, now is just a matter of trusting in God that you be healed as soon as possible."

For some reason, the girl's smile was causing a soothing effect on the rabbit, implying that she wasn't there to do any harm to him, so he placed his arms back on the blankets, relaxing his position. "Did you heal me?" he asked. The female cat blushed slightly and nodded. "Why did you do it?" Oswald inquired.

The female cat's smile disappeared, causing her to raise her eyebrows in disbelief. "Well, it was obvious, wasn't it? You were hurt, you collapsed on the floor in front of me! What kind of person would _leave _a wounded man in the middle of the street?"

"I guess, I guess that's true," Oswald muttered, staring at his bandaged hand, then looking back at her. "Thank you very much, you saved my life, miss..." He paused, frowning, making a last effort to remember her name, squeezing his brains hard... only managing to evoke the image of a flower in his mind.

"My name is Ortensia Whiskers, you may not remember it, but we met at the first day of Lent mass, some years ago," the young woman said with her expression softened again. "But it's okay; your head must be a mess after so many emotions tonight and..."

"...You had let me sit next to you in the bench, that day, you were with your father and your brother." Oswald murmured with an air of clearness and understanding. Ortensia's smile widened.

"Good, you remembered!" she exclaimed with emotion. "It's been a good while since then."

"Yes... I think the same," the black rabbit replied, looking at his hands again. He felt a pressure in the bed and when looking up, he noticed that the female black cat had risen to reach the tray that had left on the table moments before, placing it now on her lap. Up close, Oswald could see that there were several glass flask filled with strange liquids next to white handkerchiefs. "What's that?" Oswald asked with curiosity and some apprehension. Ortensia took one of the vials, showing it to him. Inside, there was a whitish paste and when she uncorked the cover, Oswald wrinkled his nose because of the strong and familiar smell of...

"It's a paste made from crushed garlic... it will sound funny, but garlic is not only used to scare away vampires, it's also an effective scar ointment." Ortensia affirmed sinking her fingers into the odorous paste, taking out a little and showing it. "Turn around please, you have some minor injuries that I couldn't heal the first time because we were occupied with the ugliest ones you have... No, they aren't serious, apparently are just scrapes after you fell." She added in a reassured tone before Oswald's horrified grimace. He nodded and turned around, still apprehensive, then let out a slight hiss of pain as he felt the fingers of the stranger woman over the wounds on his back, although the pain was almost immediately extinguished as he felt the curious paste spread, covering them. It was strange... and relaxing at the same time.

**o.o.o**

**A few hours before...  
**

_"That was... quite interesting," _he had thought with arched eyebrows as he watched the wounded rabbit being clutched by an almost hysterical female black cat, and then an old woman with a purple hat had come out of the crowd toward them. From his privileged position in the ruins of that chapel, he could also see how the villagers cut the vampire's head, and then began to shout to look for some wine or oil to burn him out... _"Good, at least those people aren't so ignorant." _He returned to see the black rabbit, totally fainted, being dragged by the two women away from there... Even from there he could see that the rabbit would need a good time to recover from this hard encounter...

And when the little boy was _finally _ready, **he **would pay him a visit.

"Rest well, kiddo. You've earned it... Since you will _never _forget your _first _kill."

**TBC**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**(1) **Among the old traditions about how to fight vampires, apart from the wooden stake in the heart and sunlight, it was also recommended that the vampire should be beheaded and burned to prevent it from resurrecting or becoming a ghoul.

**(2)** Alcoholic beverage made with fermented honey.

**(3)** The Shire horse is one of the most powerful and resistant horses that exist. They tend to distinguish very well because most have the lower extremities covered with long silky hair covering the helmets that are round and strong. Their origins date from the fourteenth century.


	11. Burning Ashes

_After a whole month of waiting, since I was moving to another city, I have here the next chapter! _

**Warning: **Some graphical scenes in the last parts.

**XI **

**Burning Ashes **

_That dark shadow, that hideous death smell, those red eyes that glowed like hellish embers... The noise of organs and skin pierced by the sharp tip of that stone sword... If he hadn't turned to see the statue of the Holy Virgin, if the sword hadn't been there... His heart was turning again when he felt the claws of the monster piercing his flesh, until it came out from the other side, spreading blood..._

Every day Oswald opened his eyes with the feeling that the vampire's infernal eyes would be right in front of him, with the jaws open... He sighed, looking at the bandages still present and still causing him pain, almost always while he's breathing deeply. He wondered how long he would continue to have those turbulent dreams with the vampire until when he could finally sleep peacefully; Ortensia, that same day that he had the nightmare for the first time when she heard that story when she changed the bandages and prepared the poultice, came to say: "I think sometimes you end up living with those dreams and memories as if it is an old friend who never wants to leave..." But when Oswald asked about it, she closed like an oyster, starting to give a tirade about the properties of poultices. The black rabbit wondered if she had dreams like that, or if something had happened to her...

...Just as he wondered _why_ she took so much trouble to take care of him, a complete _stranger_, in a house of wealthy people.

That question became stronger when he had spent the first three days in bed, in the midst of slight sweats and pain throughout the body, Oswald was able to get out of bed, noting that in the dresser there was a new white shirt, (It even smelled like a new one!), and left the room, hoping to take a good shower and at the same time see how he could help them in the house. He would have been out of breath before the richness of the living room had he not lived in Emily's house before: Beams of wood carved on the ceiling, walls painted white to give a feeling of radiance and freshness, augmented by large windows and large furniture and even a hammock between huge vases with plants that he had never seen before, certainly a perfect place for naps in the afternoon. He looked around, feeling out of place and considering returning to the room (or rather running away and looking for Felix and Zenox... _("Where would they be now? They should be very worried"_, he thought) to be able to continue with his usual life), until he heard a throat behind him:

"If you're going to stand there as a statue, then I'd like you to help me set the table." After almost jumping around in fright, he turned around: She was the old woman who apparently was a sort of servant and governess. A robust old lady with white hair and round glasses, who always wore a purple hat with a daisy and a purple shawl, who had presented the same day that Oswald would have regained consciousness as Mary Tweed _("But everyone calls me Mrs. Tweed, even you will do it, boy, _"she had said with a smirk), the former governess and now chaperone of Miss Ortensia. Oswald, somewhat doubtful, accepted and limped to the long mahogany table. The old woman looked at him with a frown: "Don't you think you should be in bed, young man?" Oswald, handing out the respective cutlery staggering precision, gave a sad smile:

"I've already abused your hospitality too much, Mrs. Tweed. I'd like to pay for the kindness you and Miss Whiskers have given me." Mrs. Tweed nodded understandingly, looking at the cutlery while the wounded rabbit placed cloth cloths, noticing the precision on the label and presentation, despite the boy's rough hands.

"I'm glad you're at least polite. You could start returning the favor by helping me carry the trays I have in the kitchen... Do you like goulash **(1)**?" Oswald looked at her perplexed. Mrs. Tweed frowned. "; You don't know what that is?" A negative mute of the rabbit. The old woman snorted, hands on her hips. "...But what the heck, your luck _isn't_ over when that hell hellion won't kill you, boy, because my goulash with mushroom is to _die_ for!"

For the _first_ time in days, Oswald smiled genuinely and broadly.

**o-o-o**

In the kitchen it smelled strongly of garlic, cloves and other vegetables that he couldn't identify. He carefully cut the mushrooms under the kindly oversight of Mrs. Tweed's when the door to the outside opened, showing Ortensia, with a basket full of meat, carrots and potatoes. "As _always_, you manage to bring the _best_ cut, my dear... With what tricks do you go out to convince the butcher, huh?" The old woman asked with a giggle. Ortensia replied, looking at Oswald, smiling:

"The ones you taught me, Nana Tweed: Flattering the jowl he has." She left the basket on the kitchen table, removing the colorful scarf from her head. "I'm surprised you're up! How are you feeling now?"

The black rabbit was slow to answer since he had believed the female cat wasn't asking to him: "Um, I feel… Very good. Thank you."

"He's helping me cut the mushrooms for the goulash," Mrs. Tweed said, patting Oswald's shoulder before the cat even asked. "...He says he hasn't tried it, so today there will be extra sauce to taste it in _full_ glory."

"I agree, you'll love it, Oswald." Ortensia conceded, smiling at both of them. "Can I help you set the table or cut the vegetables?" Mrs. Tweed shook her head.

"No thanks, my dear. Oswald already helped me with that. Serve the mead jar, today we must celebrate." Ortensia bowed her head as if she was a humble servant (somewhat discordant with her elegant colored dress) and withdrew to the dining room with a huge pewter jug. Oswald looked at the old woman curiously. Mrs. Tweed, apparently guessing what he wanted to ask, added quickly: "What are we going to celebrate today? You'll see, boy. Go, go take a bath. The food will be ready in a couple of hours."

Oswald kindly said goodbye to the old lady, feeling lighter compared to the annoying throbbing pain of the still fresh wounds. Upon leaving the kitchen, he saw Ortensia placing a glass bowl with flowers floating in the water with a very beautiful violet color that combined with the skirt of the dress she wore. She apparently felt his presence and turned around. "We usually put some flowers in the center of the table. I hope it doesn't bother you." she said. Oswald smiled.

"Not at all, in fact, they're very pretty." Oswald replied. The female cat's smile widened. "How can they grow like this in the water and not on earth?"

"They are called water hyacinth, and are aquatic plants, and not only does it look pretty, but it's also used for medicine **(2)**." She explained. Oswald blinked, perplexed.

"Can one do medicine with plants?"

"Of course! In fact, we've treated you with medicine made with plants! And from what I see, you have evolved very well." She observed with a critical eye, seeing the bandage on his chest... _Making_ Oswald cover again. The cat giggled. "I guess Nana Tweed told you to take a shower and the truth is a good idea: You've sweated a lot in recent days and we need to change the sheets."

The black rabbit's blush increased: "I'm so sorry, it wasn't my..."

"Oh don't worry. It's the least I can do after what you did." She replied with the same sad smile as before. Oswald wanted to ask if she was okay... Until a door opened with a clatter.

"Mrs. Tweed, I need you to prepare my riding boots, the mayor has invited me to hunt in the forest!" A smaller black cat exclaimed, with elegant clothes and top hat… Oswald vaguely recognized him as one of those who was with Ortensia on the day of Lenten Mass. Then Mrs. Tweed came out of the kitchen with one hand on her waist and holding a metal mallet to soften meat, looking upset.

"You'll _pass_ over my body if you're going to ride now. I _didn't_ spend hours doing the gulash with Oswald's help so that you go to have a bad hour. I don't care if he is the king of Timbuktu, you're going to eat here, Mr. Homer!"

The cat twisted his mouth and sighed. "Yes, Mrs. Tweed..." Then he stared at Oswald, who was still in the corner of the dining room, quite close to Ortensia... And a snort came out of him, with fur bristling. "Who the hell are you and _what_ do you do near my sister?!"

...If it weren't because he was stunned by the speed with which the cat had moved towards him, Oswald _would_ have laughed when he saw that kitty now move towards him in a few strides. Ortensia stepped forward. "Homer! Did you forget what I told you? He was the one who killed the vampire that was terrorizing us all. He also helped prepare dinner. Oswald, on the table in your room there are some vials with flower extracts that work wonders in scars and wounds. Take them and you can take a shower in the backyard."

Homer slightly twisted his mouth, as if he had been forced to swallow cod liver oil and withdrew into the living room. Oswald took a sigh and went back to the guest room to look for the vials. When he came out again, he saw sideways that there was an old black cat on the threshold of the door, also wearing a top hat and a cane, talking to Ortensia... For a moment, he saw that the clouded eyes by glasses of the black cat suddenly moved to where Oswald was, freezing the rabbit with the coldness of his gaze. Oswald hurried to the courtyard.

After taking a bath in a vat with medicinal plants and what seemed like a bath of kings, Oswald returned to the dining room with simple black pants and a white shirt. However, at the time of sitting in the designated chair, between Mrs. Tweed and the younger brother, Homer... Ortensia greeted him kindly, as well the old governess... But Homer's gaze was distasteful, but as for the father, Mr. Whiskers, was a cold disdain that chilled the air around him. Now Oswald could see him better: An old, but still sturdy, black cat with a short, well-groomed white beard, as well as round glasses over his nose. When he sat in his chair, Oswald began to feel uncomfortable when he felt the old hazel eyes pale of the old cat stuck in him. The rabbit forced a smile and took a sip of water, avoiding the glass of wine that would surely be extremely expensive and exquisite on the palate... Even from there, he noticed the old cat's cold eyes on top of him, feeling like a cloud of mosquitoes on top of him.

"_So_... my daughter found you bleeding out on the floor of the graveyard. I admire her nobility and kindness, that means we have raised her as a woman of impeccable morals and principles." Mr. Whiskers said indolently, taking a sip of wine. Oswald's eyes moved briefly to Ortensia's intense eyes... "What I _don't_ understand is _why_ she brought you here and not one of those charity hospitals to avoid unnecessary expenses."

Oswald looked at him incredulously and beginning to bother. How annoying was his presence in that house? Did he really say _'unnecessary expenses'_? He opened his mouth to speak, but Ortensia tapped her glass of wine with a teaspoon:

"Father, if you allow me to discern: Charity hospitals are dismal, more patients end up dying than actually be saved... And I _haven't_ asked for money to help you, instead, I used my plants."

"Oh yes, your _little plants_." The old cat replied with a hint of mockery in the voice that, apparently, his daughter didn't catch, but Oswald did. "You _still_ have that hobby, right?"

"Father, it's not a hobby! Ortensia protested, flushing. "And it has served a lot, because Oswald is much better than before, this can help heal people who can't afford the best doctors like us!"

"I know the Lord says to help your neighbor, but remember what your _position_ is, my sister." Homer said, licking his fingers. "You _cannot_ lower yourself in that way as you are doing."

"Hear that, even your younger brother gives you advice, Ortensia. Listen to him. Remember your position, not a simple childhood friendship that _is over_... and now another and _undue_ one." At that moment the servants arrived with the dishes and he said no more.

The food was abundant and exquisite, cod and salmon, livers stewed with mushrooms, salads with delicious dressings, exquisite fruits that were undoubtedly of foreign origin... And yet Oswald found it more grievous than when he ate raw meat; specially when seeing from the corner of the eye that the female black cat was eating her pieces of smoked salmon with slowness and anguish... And with glassy eyes. The black rabbit couldn't believe it: It was the same disdain and the same coldness, but this time without physical cruelty that he and his friends had suffered at the orphanage. The lack of affection for the little ones also seen among the privileged ones...? Then he remembered Emily, alone among indifferent servants; yes, even among them was that lack of warm, that lack of love. _"May God free me from being like this with my own children, if one day I have them."_ he thought. Ortensia's sad face was oppressing his chest intensely... And he didn't understand why.

During the rest of the dinner Mr. Whiskers only talked about his business (as far as the black rabbit could understand, the old black cat was a powerful banker, with many businesses in Europe, hoping to expand in the French or British colonies in Africa), the young Homer was talking about his invitations to hunt in the forest by other aristocrats... And Ortensia eating and drinking in silence. Of all the servants who constantly came to replenish the diners with water or alcohol, only Nana Tweed approached to rest her gnarled hand on the girl's shoulder for a moment, making the female cat sketch a sad smile.

When the main dishes had been removed, there were a few pieces of cream cake, honey waffles, cookies and sugary wine. Something that any child of his social condition would drool... But Oswald excused himself by saying that he didn't want to abuse their hospitality (Noting perfectly how Mr. Whiskers' eyebrows arched ironically at the word "abuse"... Oswald endured the desire to throw a piece of food by "accident") and wanted to rest. Ortensia smiled: "I agree, Oswald. Have a nice rest. And thank you very much once again."

"Thank you?! _Thanks_ for what?" Homer asked with mockery and disdain. ", if he _just_ got rid of a vampire!"

"Have you _ever_ done it, sir?" Oswald asked in an impulsive manner, narrowing his eyes and almost grinding his teeth. The black cat snorted. Mr. Whiskers placed his hand protectively on his son's shoulder, answering condescendingly:

"..._Don't_ be _stupid_, lad. _Why_ would my dear son have to do it? That is _not_ our business... For that there are beings like you."

Oswald became livid. Livid and furious. He opened his mouth to tell him the most hurtful thing he could think of, no matter if they kick him out later (And secretly he was wishing it, he was fed up with those shit snobs...) ...But the corner of his eye caught Ortensia's stiff expression, with the bright eyes of tears for some reason, while shaking her head subtly. Oswald took a deep breath, rising from the table, still staring into the indolent eyes of the old black cat. In the end he sighed: "That's true. For that there are people like _me_... If we weren't here, the monsters would have _swallowed_ your precious son as if he was a beef skewer. Now, excuse me."

And he left the room, still angry... But also feeling a vengeful satisfaction after saw the angry dismay in Mr. Whiskers' face.

**...**

Hidden behind thick branches of a leafy oak tree, he watched the elusive peasant he had been following since the fateful night, who was carrying something inside his miserable cloak, as he knew, a small cloth bag that he intended to sell in one of those dark alleyways... Definitely with a _nothing good_ purpose.

It had been fortunate that he had decided to stay a few more moments when the poor rabbit had been taken away, more dead than alive, staying to watch the exalted villagers pour kerosene into the vampire's body and then set it on fire... But before, the first one of them, the first one who had reached the corpse and (in fact), had been the one who had pushed the wounded rabbit to the ground, had removed a twinkling object from the flap of his shirt. The hunter knew what it was, he had seen it many times... The vampire's blood, his ashes, even the hair or organs such as the eyes in particular, could be used in filthy rituals...

He jumped from the tree and followed him with the unusual stillness of a shadow... When he reached the middle of the alley, long, dark and smelly of beer and urine, the hunter, wishing to leave there to be able to breathe normal air, talked in a harsh voice, like the hiss of a viper, causing his prey to stop:

"...I think you have something that _doesn't_ belong to you... If you don't want to end up with a smell worse than this, you better give me that." The man turned clearly scared, but at the same time taking out a dagger from the lapels of his clothes... But when the villager turned around completely, the only thing he saw, apart from the ice blue eyes hidden behind a purple mask... was a liquid of devilish smell that leaped to his face, causing an intense burn sensation in his eyes. He felt then that the masked man snatched his dagger, kicking him in the chest, knocking him down. As he howled in pain on the floor, he realized that the masked attacker had removed his cloth bag. "...Thank you for your collaboration, good citizen... And this will teach you to treat better who has saved your ass from a vampire."

And he left the alley, leaving the villager groaning on the ground.

This time upon leaving, he didn't return to the tree, but instead climbed to the small bell tower of a nearby church. Judging by the impressive amount of cobwebs, he could sleep or hide there without problems, so he sat leaning his back against the wall and cover himself with his cape. Keeping at his side the cloth bag with the vampire's blood and hair ampoules, the hunter began to reflect, not on what had just happened (That was already past history), ...but on that boy. That black rabbit... _Oswald_.

_"Stop right there, sir. Is impossible enter the town, they won't let anyone in for now." A traveler had told him that he was going the opposite way from him, just as he reached the double stone doors that surrounded the entrance to the town of Sighiosara. When he made a frowning look like 'You're kidding, right?' at him, the traveler continued: "There's a vampire attacking the villagers, sir. Several victims have already been died."_

_"...Well that's why I'm here. I'm a hunter." He replied with a grim expression and would even be said to be arrogant. However, the traveler sighed._

_"You're too late, mate. They already sent someone to take care of that monster... What was his name? Osmund... Oswald? I don't remember..." The hunter rolled his eyes, exasperated... But then the traveler said the following: "...The fact is that his last name is Van Helsing. Better leave and..."_

_...Not less than three seconds later, the traveler was panting in horror when he felt a gun against his throat, while the hunter, completely exalted and even altered, had shot him down in a surprise jump, like a wolf knocking down a deer. The hunter growled: Did you say... Van Helsing?! Did you say Van Helsing? Is it true?! May God help you if you lie to me!"_

_"...I-i'm not lying, the same boy calls himself in that way and the people sent him there, that's all I know, have mercy!" The traveler whimpered, raising his hands in signal of surrender, seeing the fierce ice blue eyes hidden behind the mask... The hunter slowly backed away and let him go, causing the traveler to run away in terror under the shout of "He's crazy, crazy...!"_

_...But he paid no attention. He left the horse in a nearby pasture, after removing the chair and the brakes (so anyone would take it), and entered the town silently, like a shadow, trying to hear from other people's conversations about that boy they had sent to the slaughter. That first night he spent it awake, waiting for the same monster to appear to see if he could kill it himself and thus get some credit (Hey, old habits take time to die, sue him...), but it never appeared. He had waited a couple more days, hidden in the roofs of the houses, feeding on the fallen grains of the nearby forest and sleeping in the attics and bell towers, always waiting for it to happen... Until, finally, in a night of full moon, when the hunter was looking for water in the old well near an abandoned mausoleum, he saw him enter the cemetery..._

_...And the boy muttering: "...They send me there because my name is Van Helsing..."_

So that squalid rabbit that had defeated the vampire by pure and stupid luck was a Van Helsing? An authentic Van Helsing? It was something amazing, hard to imagine... And to believe. The hunter closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his temples. Then he muttered to himself:

"...After all _these_ years, is there finally a small leaf on the old burned tree...?"

There was _only_ one _infallible_ way to find out. And he was willing to do it to clear his doubts... But he still had to wait. Hunters, like women with their loved ones who go on a trip, always wait.

* * *

He waited for everyone to go to bed so he could leave without being able to notice... or try to stop him. Not even the calming tonic that was in a jar on the nightstand served to mitigate the headache that seconded the pains of his wounds still healing... And the rage and indignation only made it increase: _"(...) he just got rid of a vampire!"..._that brat had said it as if it had been to go clean a sooty roof! What did he do? Nothing, just fight with a vampire and kill it, despite getting seriously wounded in the process! Surely that damn kitten would have done so much better than him, and WITHOUT the help of the stone sword, of course! He turned on the cot, still furious... But why, if such expressions had he always heard? Was it because of... the way they had spoken to Miss Ortensia? They were scolding her because of him... He must have left since the moment he had regained consciousness. He heard in the distance the eleven chimes of the standing clock that was in the living room, as well as silence. Perfect: They were asleep. He got up, leaving a note in bed, already organized:

**_"For Miss Ortensia and Mrs. Tweed: Thank you very much for your kindness and hospitality, but I must go. Sorry for all the inconveniences."_**

He closed the door and tiptoed towards the front door, checking that it was locked. He turned and headed toward the kitchen, searching the drawers for something sharp to use... In a few seconds he found a small knife to cut fruits. He dared not light a candle, so he was going to be guided by the sound to return to the door without tripping over anything...

"If you're _looking_ for desserts you skipped, you should wait until tomorrow, little one." Oswald almost shouted in pure terror until at the last second he recognized the voice. He turned slowly, noticing Mrs. Tweed's serious expression as she looked at him behind the light of a candlestick she held with one hand and her shawl with the other. Oswald felt himself shrink, embarrassed. He didn't know where to go, much less to say... The old woman sighed: "At another time I would have asked you what you do snooping in the kitchen at this hour, but I think this note you left in the room is enough explanation, isn't it?" She added taking out a piece of folded parchment paper. Oswald nodded weakly, wishing the earth would swallow him. "...And well?"

Oswald sighed, returning the knife back to the drawer. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Tweed. I just... I _can't_ stay here. I'm just bothering Miss Ortensia. You heard what Mr. Whiskers said about me..."

"Believe me, lad. I have worked for J. P. Whiskers for a quarter of a century, you don't need to say _more_." The old woman replied dryly. The rabbit fell silent. "And yes, I know perfectly what he said about you and also about Tensia... And I don't think that leaving in the middle of the night, even with unhealed wounds is the best way to thank Ortensia for her efforts, don't you think?" Oswald pursed his lips and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Why does Miss Ortensia insist so much on helping me? Doesn't she _see_ the whole problem she is getting into with her father and brother?" After an unusual silence, the old woman sighed and looked at him. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes and in her voice:

"...There are things that that petty old man will never understand. And what _happened_ to poor Fanny is one of them."

"Excuse me?" Oswald asked with confusion. Before he knew it, he felt Mrs. Tweed's fingers on his wrist, dragging him firmly but kindly out of the kitchen.

"You will return to your room and you won't leave there, understand? Now we will talk about this." Oswald was about to say that she was no one to order things to him, but the old woman's serious and sad expression let the rabbit let himself be meekly carried down the hall, until she reached the guest room again. The black rabbit sat on the bed in slight hiss of pain, looking at Mrs. Tweed with expectation and apprehension... "Wait here. I'll be back." And she came out, closing the door behind him, then hearing the unmistakable "click" of a bolt. Oswald blinked confused ... And two seconds later he realized what had just happened. He was trapped and very stupidly he had let himself be locked up. He thought in a moment of screaming and pounding on the door, but remembered what Mrs. Tweed had said: 'I'll be back' What did that mean?

...His answer came a few minutes later, when another click was heard on the door and Mrs. Tweed reappeared, still holding the candlestick and the same sad look as before. Barely Oswald was opening his mouth to ask her what was going on... Then the old lady stepped aside, showing Ortensia; Oswald closed his mouth, dumbfounded: She took a few hesitant steps inward, noticing that she was going barefoot. The black female cat looked sad, distant, clinging to a thick brown shawl that covered her cotton nightgown... Although he noticed she was holding something.

"Miss Ortensia, but what are you doing here?" Oswald asked in a confused and alarmed whisper." Shouldn't you be in bed? What would happen if your father or brother realized you're here?"

"We will take risks, because I need you to know." Ortensia murmured, sitting at the other end of the cot, leaving Oswald even more confused. The black rabbit watched her lean over to take the wooden crate with the medicine bottles and jars, while Mrs. Tweed was doing a kind oversight from the door. There was a moment of silence that Oswald wasn't sure about breaking... "Nana Tweed found you in the kitchen, because she was heating water for your poultice tonight... You were trying to escape, weren't you?" In her tone there wasn't anger or disappointment... But rather resignation. Oswald's first impulse was to deny everything... But he knew there would be no excuse, so he nodded.

"...I've only been causing you problems, Miss Ortensia. Just look how they talked to you at dinner and all because of me... I know that people of _my kind_ are _not_ welcome among you, I have always known that." Oswald murmured with a frown, averting his eyes to feel the dressing of his right forearm: It still hurt. Ortensia opened the brown shawl, showing what she was holding: A daguerreotype framed in a simple black frame. She looked at it for a moment and passed it to Oswald: In it, Ortensia, a couple of years younger, was seen in an ornate white dress with a veil over her ears, next to a black bunny dressed in an equally luxurious dress, whose face brought Oswald a distant memory... Amazed, he looked at the female black cat, who looked at him in silence: "I remember her, Miss Ortensia! She was in church that same day as you." smiling wistfully, the black rabbit looked back at the picture, looking at the female bunny, in her smile and still lively eyes in that old photograph... Until a sob pulled him out of his rapture, making him look up: Ortensia had her eyes full of tears, also staring at the face of the female bunny. "...Miss Ortensia, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Oswald asked her worriedly.

Ortensia closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, placing her hands together in her lap. "She was Fanny, Francine Cottontail. We were always together, since I have memory. We used to meet in the house of one or the other to do our homework, cooking, or knitting... She was always cheerful, somewhat capricious, but always speaking with sincerity... This daguerreotype was taken out in our first communion **(3)** ...I remember the flowers, as she said she would give her purity to God and the Virgin. Ah, I remember that when we finished our classes or going to church, we always went to the countryside to eat strawberries or pick plants ... In fact, she was the one who showed me that plants can heal, Oswald." she said, surprising to the rabbit, who then smiled.

"Heh, she's as pretty and smart _as_ you." Oswald observed distractedly, but then froze, horrified by what he said, so he stuttered: "I'm sorry... N-no, I _didn't_ mean that, that sounded so _inappropriate_..."

"She accepts the compliment with _pleasure_, lad, I can _assure_ you." Nana Tweed said with a sad smile, squeezing the young woman's shoulders from behind." ...Apart from me, _nobody_ else in this house notices that in my little girl."

"Tha-thank you, Oswald," Ortensia murmured, noting that her cheeks were warming... mentally thanking the candlelight to hide it ... "The case is... that when that vampire came to town, many people were killed by him... or were bitten. Do you know what happens when someone bitten by a vampire is alive?" She asked in a trembling whisper. Oswald, to his regret, nod. "...A curse falls on them: Either the poor thing becomes a vampire or will suffer terrible pain and suffering until everything ends... And as its soul was corrupted by that demon... To... to be able to... _purify_ that soul... they must... they _must_..."

Ortensia's voice was getting more and more lost between weak sobs and spasms. She looked very distressed, something that was also noticeable in the old woman... Oswald, not knowing why, leaned a little and laid his bandaged left hand gently on Ortensia's fist, which was trembling on her knee, then she looked at him. "You don't have to tell me now, Miss Ortensia," Oswald said in a soft tone to calm her. "We can wait another day and..."

"No! You have to know it!" Ortensia snapped harshly, even among the tears that made her emerald eyes shine. "...They must be... they must be purified, as the word of the Lord says **(4)**: On fire, so that the work of the Holy Spirit is not lost. And... that happened with Fanny: She went... she went one day alone to the forest, was picking blackberries and... and... that demon appeared and attacked her! When they found her, she barely had a pulse... she was barely breathing... She had teeth marks on her neck that kept bleeding without stop..."

"When we found out what happened to Miss Fanny, Mr. Whiskers locked Ortensia in her room so she wouldn't run away to her friend. Ah, I understand he wanted to keep her from taking a risk, but he didn't hear the cries of my Tensia behind the door that day and that night!" Mrs. Tweed lamented, wiping her eyes with the edge of her shawl. "And a few days later, by a neighbor, we learned that Fanny was in the public square, in a wooden atrium!" She looked down, pressing Ortensia's shoulders tighter. "...And then Tensia _went_ _out_ into the street, running madly toward the square..."

_The terrible smell of burned flesh was felt everywhere, accompanying the black cloud that rose slowly to the sky, at that moment insultingly clear and bright, as if mocking them all. She almost pushed her way through the crowd, trying to get to the front row, as if with that silly action she could do something to avoid that... She had to do it, she couldn't allow it. "Please, let me pass, please, I want to pass!" she shouted in anguish, and then returned to be devoured by the mass that was gathering to see the grotesque spectacle that was going to happen._

_"In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. May God have mercy on their souls and accept them in his kingdom. Amen!" The bishop's voice, still clear among the screaming of the people made her stop, and then watched with wide eyes what was happening in front of her: At a signal from the Bishop, the executioner sank the stick on, turning on the first wisps of straw and dried herbs surrounding the pyre._

_Fanny's pale and spooky face was clearly visible even in the middle of the half-dozen bodies that had succumbed to the terrible fate after crossing the vampire's path. She had a slight smile and her eyes closed, as if she was asleep... And not completely bleeding when they had found her; she looked more like a withered flower. Upon reaching the front row, she noticed that the wind was causing the flames to take time to consume the funeral pyre on the platform... That mean she could still do something! "Please, you have to stop this, there is no need to do it!" She began yelling at the Bishop, trying to get his attention. At that, she felt thick arms around her, trying to push her back and away from there. But she, with her eyes full of tears, couldn't see who she was... Although she imagined who it was._

_"...Tensia, please, you don't have to see this, come on, let's go home ..." But just when Nana Tweed had said that, a sinking in the branches made the flames jump to lick the face directly and Fanny's ears, causing them to light up immediately. A tearing scream escaped from Ortensia's throat in a way that gave the impression that it was she who was burning alive at the stake._

_"FANNY! FANNY! FANNY...!" Ortensia was screaming hysterically, feeling the rivers of tears staining her cheeks and blinding her eyes, struggling between the old woman's arms trying to get her away from there. A guard who was there to maintain order among the exalted crowd gave him an unpleasant look before the scandal the girl was making._

_"Miss, behave and show some decorum, this is a public area." he said in a monotonous and boring voice. Ortensia stopped screaming, but was breathing hard, with a livid face._

_"Has something like this ever happened to you, sir?! Don't you care about the suffering of these people and their families?!" She snapped at him in a squeaky voice. The guard looked at her without a hint of emotion: he had seen so many executions that his eyes were cured of horror. This was just another day._

_"... It's the best, my poor lass; that way we prevent their souls from being corrupted by that nocturnal demon and become one of them or their subordinates, the ghouls **(5)**," The Bishop himself suddenly said, still next to the dais. The reddish glow from the fire on his face was giving him a terrifying image. He continued speaking to the livid Ortensia in a calm and condescending voice, as if he was explaining to a small and extremely sensitive child that one plus one is two: "...It's best to pray for them, so that your friend and the others finally finds peace and rest... Little lass, have resignation; and so you will find comfort in our Lord..." And after saying that he turned to look at the intense burning pyre._

_His words were spoken with good intentions, but they were not enough to comfort the afflicted Ortensia, who immediately collapsed into a heartbreaking and inconsolable crying, identical to what she had had when her mother had died. Mrs. Tweed hugged her tightly, trying to comfort her, trying to get her out of there for her sake... At that moment, Ortensia had the impression that Fanny's eyes opened and looked at her before disappearing into an infernal wall... Ortensia couldn't take it anymore; She closed her eyes tightly and looked away, letting herself be dragged by her governess away from there, among the crowd that was still shouting..._

Oswald listened to everything with glazed eyes in horror... He, like practically _all_ the other inhabitants of the town, _had seen_ the fires in the square... He, like practically _all_ the other inhabitants of the town, _knew_ that anyone murdered or bitten by a vampire, had to be burned to prevent it from being reborn as an evil being, as the criers and the priests repeated it aloud... He had seen how the pile of torn bodies disappeared under the flames, leaving a horrible smell that neither with the buckets of water or the rain itself managed to fade...

...He left his mind full of horrific images of fire and blood, not only when he heard the strangled sobs of Ortensia by his side... But also she had taken his bandaged hands between hers, noticing once again how soft they were to the touch. Oswald had felt them before, when she rubbed the poultice made of plants on his hands, on his shoulders, on his back and especially on his bare chest... Delicate fingers, like those of a pianist, like Emily's... in comparison to his calluses and rough fingers... Apart from the pain in his chest when he felt sorry for the black kitten, he also felt that his heart began to pound in an uncontrolled way, like a little bird trapped in a cage and desperate to leave... What could that mean? He stuttered: _"Ortensia..."_

"...When Fanny died burned before my eyes, I had nightmares for a long time. I thought that as long as that vampire kept stalking the town, Fanny would've no peace, just like the others who died under his claws... I prayed many times, asking God to hear our prayers, that our suffering would end... And then... When that scream was heard, we all ran to see... And there you were, Oswald, crawling on the ground, because the crowd had pushed you, despite being wounded... And there ahead, was the vampire... Finally, dead." Ortensia whispered in tears, squeezing Oswald's hands, then she bent down and kissed them with an unprecedented devotion for someone from her social class to a guy like him. Oswald gasped in amazement, blushing to the tip of his ears, stuttering in horror that she shouldn't do that... "It was finally over. You _brought_ peace to this town, _to_ _Fanny_... Never, I can never thank you for it enough and that's why I want you to stay here and recover as you deserve..." Ortensia said still leaning over Oswald's hands, wetting them with her tears. "Please... is the only thing I can offer you in return for everything you've done... Thank you, thank you."

Oswald's eyes filled with tears, feeling the lump in his throat and chest intensify... He let go of the Ortensia grip, causing her to stop sobbing, seeing him confused... Slowly, Oswald entwined his fingers with hers, saying slowly: _"...Do not fear, because I am with you; do not faint, because I am your God who strives to you; I will always help you, I will always support you with the right hand of my justice." **(6)**_

Ortensia nodded and even among the fresh tears on her cheeks, she pronounced in turn: _"...Cast your burden on him, and he will sustain you; He will not leave the righteous forever fallen." _(7). She looked down at their now intertwined hands, as if they were two hands united in a single prayer. The female black cat let out a small chuckle, making Oswald smile in turn.

...Next to them, Mrs. Tweed accompanied them at this moment, without meddling in this unusual (and still so sublime) moment between this daughter of a banker and this son of a vampire hunter.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUE…**

**Glossary:**

**(1)** Goulash (gulyás, in Hungarian) is a spicy dish, made mainly with meat, onions, pepper and paprika, originally from Eastern Europe. It is very popular in Hungarian cuisine, as well as in the neighboring countries of central Europe.

**(2)** Water hyacinth, also known as water lily (Eichhornia crassipes), is a purple flowering aquatic plant native of South America, although its export has made it a common species in almost all countries, considered an invasive species. It is used in rural medicine as a way to treat bruises, headaches or fevers. It is also used as fertilizer.

**(3)** The first communion sacrament applies to both the Catholic and Orthodox Church. From the Counter Reformation it became an important event in people's lives in both religions.

**(4) Saint Luke 3:16**

**(5)** Among the various traditions about vampires, it was believed that the person that was bitten by a vampire or had had contact with his blood in some way, must to be cut into pieces and burned to avoid being resurrected as vampires or ghouls. This form of execution has been seen in audiovisual works such as _BloodRayne_ (2005) or _Castlevania_ (2017).

**(6) Isaiah 41:10**

**(7) Psalm 55:22**

**Get ready, because the mysterious hunter who is stalking from the village will finally make his presentation to our poor Oswald...! And with that, many of his old doubts will begin to clear up, as well as open old wounds from our little rabbit.**


	12. Darkwing

**Shade: As the title suggests, we're seen one of the most important people in Oswald's new life... And who has made him who he is. In addition, dark shadows are crawling under the same foundations of the city ...**

**OST for today: **_Across the Snow_** (Tartalo Music)**

**XII**

**Darkwing**

The summer weeks passed and Oswald was recovering successfully from all his wounds. He could already walk and breathe deeply without feeling pain, he felt nothing when he pressed a finger on the bandages and the cuts were disappearing until they became almost imperceptible... Although it was evident that the vampire marks on his chest weren't going to disappear, leaving elongated scars of striated skin between his black fur; Ortensia assured him that it would have been much worse if he hadn't been treated as he deserved… And Mrs. Tweed, laughing, said that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of that, because the scars made him look more manly for the ladies, making both Oswald as Ortensia, who at that time was in the room for the last time removing the bandages from his body, blushed intensely, trying not to look at each other and claiming the old woman for her impudence.

Oswald couldn't help thinking of Ortensia's words, when after he took a shower from the patio tub, he looked at himself shirtless in front of the old, stained mirror in the guest room. The claw marks were right over his heart, and every time Oswald touched them, he remembered vividly the intense pain when they had buried themselves in his flesh... It had been without a doubt the most horrible wound he had ever had, and if it weren't for the goodness and compassion of Ortensia, what would have happened to him? He remembered perfectly the days of agony for the infection of the hole of his ear, and it had been a small wound in comparison to these ones... It was obvious that, if he had hidden in a corner as he had planned to do at first, Oswald wouldn't have survived that same night. He shuddered, not only for the dread of thinking about it... **"It seems they don't want ya in heaven or hell yet, rookie." **Those words of Flynn Ryder, still echoed clear in his mind, as if the bandit himself was telling him that now: Both God and the Holy Virgin had given him a chance, and this time they had done it through a (literal) angel…

...Ortensia.

Oswald couldn't help thinking about that since the night she had told her tragic story with Fanny, how they had prayed with their hands entangled in silence... and how she had wished him good night with a soft kiss on the cheek, leaving the black rabbit as if he had a sudden rush of fever, making him stutter a "G-good night, Ortensia", realizing that he was still calling her by her first name, immediately apologizing for it, but the black female kitten told him that it was fine, that she preferred that, giving him a sweet smile before closing the door. Since then they had become very good friends; every time she had time, Ortensia talked to Oswald about anything, with both sharing experiences, both pleasant and hard, finding that the female black cat was just as gentle and charming as Emily, always willing to listen with interest to what the rabbit said, despite it was evident that Ortensia was much more educated than him, not to say more refined... Even so, it was very pleasant to spend time with her, whether talking, listening to her botany classes and their uses, cleaning the keys of the clavichord or feeding the chickens or goats in the courtyard... Every time he remembered those moments or that expression where she not only smiled with her mouth but also with her green eyes, he felt that pleasant warmth on his cheeks and heart again. It was almost balsamic...

Realizing that his reflection had pink cheeks, he shook his head sharply and hurried to get dressed to start the day and do what was pending: Find his friends.

Oswald finished his breakfast and diligently washed both his plate and that of Mrs. Tweed and Ortensia. After that shameful dinner with J.P. Whiskers and Homer, the black rabbit preferred to eat on the wooden kitchen table with of the old housekeeper, talking while eating lunch stew or bread soaked in milk. Mrs. Tweed told him stories about her and Ortensia's childhood, as well as anecdotes about the petty men whom were both the lord of that house and the youngest son. Oswald laughed, also telling her about his former masters and his friends, and how much he wanted to see them. Mrs. Tweed not only agreed, but told him this:

"The servants say that for several years a couple of children have been seen loitering in the house, but they were always kicked out by the dogs… But as they told me, there were always two." The old woman added when seeing the face of consternation and the up ears of the rabbit. Oswald straightened, tense and expectant. "...They're your friends, aren't they?"

"Felix and Zenox. They're my best friends, they have been with me since I was a child and I was at the orphanage… I wouldn't have been alive if it weren't for them." Oswald replied solemnly. "We lived on the street and stole food, but then a young lady sponsored and educated us; by the time she left, we started working as laborers for anyone who required it... We've always been together."

At the end of his story, Mrs. Tweed nodded with understanding. "That kind of friends should never be lost, even in the eventuality or in the separation... You can take advantage that today is a relaxed day... And don't worry, I will give you a key so that neither Mr. Whiskers or Homer leave you out of the house as a beggar." the old woman added with a wave of her hand, making the rabbit laugh. At that moment, they heard the doorbell. "Go to open, Oswald. I still have to clean this."

"Yes, ma'am." And Oswald went to the lobby, assuming it was a merchant or customer of J.P. Whiskers or a messenger bringing an invitation for Homer... But he was amazed when he opened a door and saw a pig in a suit and top hat, smiling at him... "Good morning, what are you offering?"

"Oswald Van Helsing, I finally found you, slippery boy!" the noble pig exclaimed jovially, although the rabbit didn't smile. "I see that you've recovered beautifully, so from the townsfolks, I have come to thank you for your work."

Thank him? Thank him after almost a month? During all the time he was in bed, Oswald hadn't received any visit or message from the pig or any of the nobles who went to look for him to kill the vampire... He frowned and sighed. "I accept your thanks, sir."

"I see that you are doing very well, my little friend. Do you work now as Mr. Whiskers' escort?"

"No, I'm a chamber assistant to Miss Ortensia Whiskers," Oswald replied, which was true: While he was regaining the mobility of his leg, Oswald had asked Ortensia and Mrs. Tweed for work, either at home or in the garden next to this, being at the end as a chamber assistant (or "boy for everything"), earning a small but stable salary, added to his stay in the house of the servants... Needless to say, both J. P. Whiskers and Homer had taken it with disdain... But now the pig in suit had taken out a medium bag of gold and silver coins, in front of Oswald's wild eyes. He had never seen so much money!

"One must pay his debts and acknowledge a job worthy of a reward... I regret the delay." And he put the bag in his hands. "...I may call you to request another service, but for now, have a good day." And giving a bow, the pig went out the gate, leaving Oswald... And Mrs. Tweed perplexed.

"Blazes, my boy. That's a salary of almost three months!" the old woman exclaimed, weighing the bag in her hands, then looked at the rabbit. "Whatever you do, don't even think to reveal that you've been given this; Master is able to take it off under the excuse of charging you rent."

"You don't have to tell me that twice, Mrs. Tweed," Oswald muttered, looking at the bag, knowing he had to hide it. After agreeing that the old woman would keep it in her room so as not to raise suspicions or a possible room check by owner of the house, Oswald took a handful of coins and the key to go to look for Zenox and Felix, going for a street walk below, remembering where the house was located to return without problems. He reached the main square and headed back to Tapper's, hoping they were there.

Something that Oswald noticed when he was walking to the old hostel was what people were looking at him sideways, then they looked away and continued on their way... He wondered how many of them had spoken badly of him about his last name before to run after him and throw him into the mouth of the monster precisely because of his last name... It was a thought that still eaten him.

When he arrived at Tapper's, he was very disappointed not to find his friends, but with the sum of two gold coins, Mr. Tapper let him into his old room, noting that his friends' things were still there... And hidden under the broken table under his (too much made) bed, the little coin bag that Emily gave him, as well as his diary. Smiling with relief, Oswald took them and went down to the reception, asking Mr. Tapper if he knew where Felix and Zenox could be: "If I'm not bad, today I sent them as sweepers to a bar that is two blocks from here... You will recognize it by the fish-shaped entrance." Oswald thanked him for the information and was about to leave when he heard Mr. Tapper's throat clear. "I see you do very well wherever you are. Good luck, I guess."

Oswald didn't know what to answer before, so he just gave a nod and left.

* * *

The humble bar's name was **"The Flying Whale"**, despite the blurry drawing showing a fish. After a moment's hesitation he entered, noticing a windowless enclosure, splintered tables and the floor of beaten earth. Laughing when he imagined how long his friends had to sweep, Oswald went to the bar, craving for a beer... There he noticed that there were several men at the bar, standing out among them a white mallard duck with a large yellow beak, wearing a flamboyant purple clothing, including a purple mask and a gray hat with a wide brim that, although half concealed his face, it clearly shows him with a mature age; He was drinking from a glass full of brandy, and had his light blue gaze fixed on Oswald... Something that the black rabbit found pretty strange.

"Ozzie!" A few shouts brought him out of his reverie, turning him around… And smiling from ear to ear: A black cat and an orange cabbit threw himself on him, hugging him and rubbing his head vigorously.

"I came to Tapper's and you guys weren't there, but I was able to get my things back." Oswald said cheerfully, showing his bag to his friends... as well as the handful of gold coins, leaving them dazzled. "I received them this morning, as well as the news that you were wandering where I am staying... How did you guys know where I was?"

Felix and Zenox looked at each other. Felix spoke in restrained tone: "We were running to rescue you, but that girl black cat was ahead of us. We followed you to her house and we have been watching, but nothing, there was no way to enter." He paused to swallow. "...You **were** in pieces, man."

"I guess it wasn't easy for you guys to see me like that," Oswald murmured in a soothing tone at Zenox's distressed expression. "...I was too close. According to Ortensia, I might not have survived the night because of blood loss and infection." Before the face of confusion of his friends, the rabbit explained: "Ortensia is the female cat that advanced you guys; She cured me and allowed me to rest at her home, she even gave me a permanent job."

Zenox was baffled. Felix was drawing a slow and malicious smile. "Good one, Ozzie, not only permanent work but also a girlfriend!"

"Girlfriend?! You're imagine things, Felix, please." Oswald snorted, observing that the beers they had ordered had arrived They drank happily, Oswald caught up with the weeks in which he was held uncommunicated with his friends, about the work they had been doing, including some nasty rumors that had been running since his convalescence.

"...There are some who say there are still vampires around, because some people have been disappearing, mainly people who lived on the street." Zenox said gravely. "Blood stains and signs of fighting were found where they were, much like... like a..."

"...Flynn Ryder's den when we found it." Oswald finished looking down. "Do you think it could be...?"

"And when are you going to take the case and do something about it, Van Helsing?" An unfriendly voice was heard. Oswald turned around, believing that he would be the strange mallard who was still looking at him, but no: It was the other one present, a big man with a full beard and sullen expression. He stood in front of the black rabbit, who felt tiny, but tried not to show fear. "Even if they are homeless people and whores, isn't it your job, hunter? You beat the vampire, so you should do this too."

"...I'm not a hunter and I never wanted to take that job of killing the vampire, they forced me," Oswald said, narrowing his eyes. "Anyway, what do you care? Didn't you say it was just homeless and prostitutes...?" But a moment later the man swatted the table, bringing the beer bottles to the floor, bursting loudly. Oswald and his friends jumped in the abrupt movement.

"Those tramps and those whores are mine, they work for me!" The man barked, splashing the three boys with saliva. "So you better move your ass and solve this for today, Van Helsing!"

Oswald hesitated, seeing the menacing form of the man... Then he tried to save time: "How much would you pay me for that?"

His response was a blow thrown directly to his face, Oswald avoided it at the last moment, reaching the impact on his shoulder. The rabbit felt as if an elephant had sat on his arm, gripping it tightly. "Oswald!" his friends shouted as the rabbit backed away. "...That's... That's no way to ask, mate."

"That's true... I should've asked you with a hole in yer other ear...!"

**Click.**

The man stopped talking and turned slowly, while Oswald and his friends looked up: It was the mallard from before, now standing and holding a gun of considerable size to the neck of the man, already with a finger on the trigger. The man looked at him for a moment and then snorted. "Whoever the fuck you are, duck, it's none of your business."

Oswald, Felix and Zenox watched as the masked mallard kicked him hard in the back of his right knee, making a horrible cracking sound and then the man fell to the ground in screams of pain, clinging to his leg, now hanging abnormally loose on the floor. Then, the duck moved the gun to his head, and the three friends screamed, but instead of a bullet through the man's skull, a whitish gas emerged under pressure on his face, leaving him unconscious. A death silence followed it where the three children were petrified looking at their "savior"... And the bartender cleaned the glasses as if nothing mattered. Finally, Felix muttered: "But what the hell...?"

"I left him unconscious, it is a compound of pulverized hyoscine **(1) **and diluted in water. He won't move in a good while." The white mallard replied n a practical tone, standing up. "...Perfect for talking without interruption."

"Talk about what?" Oswald asked suspiciously. The white mallard gave him a questioning look, the black rabbit felt that he was sculpting his soul with those eyes like ice.

"He just said it out loud, and it seems you confirmed it... I finally see you, Oswald Van Helsing." Oswald didn't answer. Felix jumped:

"Well, you saw him and therefore you can go now. Ozzie doesn't want to accept anyone's jobs, so don't insist."

"Humm... I guess these are your friends, right? So if I've to ask you a favor, it must be with these attached to you like ticks." The duck said. "...Well, so be it." After a dramatic pause, he continued: "Are you really a Van Helsing? Isn't it a name you found in a book and you thought it was cool to adopt it, even if it's not yours?"

"Are you accusing me as a liar?" Oswald growled, rising, despite the great difference in height between the two. The mallard raised an eyebrow.

"...Well, with that attitude you have, yes." Oswald snorted and turned around, urging his friends to leave ... He didn't take two steps when he was hanging upside down. "Ozzie! Release him!" Felix and Zenox exclaimed when they saw the mallard grabbing his friend's ankles. "I was going to ask you in a good way, but your friend gave me no options. There is only one infallible way…" And he tried to look at his feet, for Oswald began to kick.

"Release me, you freak!" And he tried to kick him with his feet or reach him with his hands. The mallard chuckled.

"You can't use your hands or your feet. You're a worm. You definitely killed a vampire of pure dumb luck. And your name is Van Helsing, liar? What kind of poor education has your mother given you?"

"Don't mess with my mother!" Oswald shrieked, writhing more and more, pushing his torso up to take a bite of one of the mallard's wrists, making him release him. The duck immediately turned around, grabbing Felix, who was holding a stick in his hands, taking him apart and knocking him down.

"Thief movements, although it doesn't surprise me. You've been on your own." The duck murmured, turning around and grabbing Zenox's forearm, who had thrown himself screaming over him. "More cunningness if you want to enter in the profession!" And he flexed his wrist slightly, making the orange cabbit scream. At that moment Oswald threw himself on him with the fury of a beast, trying to hit him somewhere, but the mallard grabbing him by the arm with one hand, began to tickle him under the armpit with the other, making Oswald laugh and he fall to the ground, for seconds later to grab him by his ankles again and lift him upside down. Felix and Zenox were panting. Oswald screamed:

"We haven't done anything to you and you attack us! What the hell do you want from us!?"

The white mallard said nothing for a few moments, and then sighed, muttering to himself: "Rueben, in the end you did it. I guess you had no choice."

Oswald was dumbfounded, without air... Did he just say... Rueben? Rueben? Oswald stopped trying to let go himself. "How...? How do you know...?"

"Your father's name? When I saw you, I thought I was looking at the exact copy, but he never had that... spirit, no matter how hard he tried... Instead, the good ol' Susannah always had that..." A painful twist seized the black rabbit. It was as if he had heard a very vaguely familiar voice, but present, echoing inside him... The mallard dropped Oswald, who immediately stood up, confused and stunned, as well as his friends. "The Van Helsing mark, made by fire, when they turn one-year-old... I never agreed with that tradition, but well."

Oswald didn't' leave his astonishment. The names of his parents, the strange mark on his foot that always wondered why it was there... He looked at the masked mallard in the eyes... "Who are you...?"

The duck composed a boastful smile. "Finally, my favorite part!" He exclaimed rising and inflating his chest: "I'm the terror that flaps in the night! I'm the piece of garlic that you accidentally bite! I'm...! " And he made an ironic bow "...Your fairy godmother."

Everyone's silence, and then... "My what?!" Oswald exclaimed.

"Gee, haven't you never read fairy tales, kiddo? The fairy godmother is the contact that helps the poor soul get out of its filth and shine, because you can't do that without the right contacts... If you're going to honor your family on your own, you're not going to get very far." He left a silver coin to the bartender and turned to the exit. Oswald stayed where he was, while Felix and Zenox approached him, taking him by the shoulders.

"Ozzie, don't pay attention to him. I'm sure he's just playing with you to keep fighting, I don't think..."

"Wait!" Oswald exclaimed, running to the exit, seeing that the mallard was already heading towards the square, in the middle of a small crowd. Felix and Zenox ran after him, trying to call him. When the rabbit reached a small street where he had seen him enter, Oswald stopped, noticing that he was facing a cul-de-sac... And no sign of him. The black rabbit was panting, looking everywhere... When someone called him, but they weren't his friends. When he turned, he blushed. "O-Ortensia?"

"Hey, Oswald! I just got out of my piano lessons when I saw you running, what happens?" She asked curiously, as Felix and Zenox came running, calling him. "Oh, hello. Are you guys friends of Oswald?"

They couldn't answer, because he felt something lift him up, making him scream. He was lifted up to a tree, tied at the waist with a whip... Whose end was hold by the mallard, perched on the top of the tree and with a wry smile. Oswald began to kick in the air, screaming to release him. Below, Ortensia shouted in turn that if he didn't let Oswald go, she would call the police, and Felix and Zenox began to arm themselves with stones to throw at the strange duck... He laughed. "...You must learn to listen when an attack approaches, kiddo." And he released him down, also jumping down cleanly to the ground, like a cat. Already freed from the rope, Oswald rebuked him.

"Listen, I don't know who the hell you are or how the hell you know the names of my family, but I swear..."

"Oh? Should I introduce myself again?" the masked duck asked, raising his eyebrows. Noticing Oswald's silence, he began to declare: "I am the terror that flaps in the night!" I am...!"

"You're Darkwing Duck," Ortensia replied, interrupting him, still staring at him. Oswald and his friends were confused, especially Oswald... Darkwing? That name... Did he hear it from somewhere? The white mallard said nothing, just looked at the female black cat with interest. Ortensia blushed slightly. "...There are, there are several stories about you, a hunter… A very well-known one, who was in the Opium vampyric wars 20 years ago, had got favors from kings and the Holy See… I think."

Darkwing was silent for a moment and then burst out laughing. "Many legends about me are dotted with gossip, but in general are true. You're very instructed for your age, little miss." Darkwing added, making a bow taking off his wide gray hat at Ortensia, who blinked. Oswald stepped forward, still annoying, but also anxious.

"You still don't answer my question. How do you know the name of my parents?" At first Darkwing didn't answer, but just looked at him, as if he expected something... Oswald was beginning to exasperate. The hunter duck tilted the edge of his hat, covering his eyes.

"I was a close friend of the Van Helsing family for many years. Unfortunately, when I learned that Rueben and Susanna died... I realized that the connection was completely lost."

Oswald suddenly remembered something... One night, talking to a hunter from the Sighiosara Hunter Guild before it was dissolved... He had asked him if he knew anything about his family, and he had said no, that only few old-school hunters were close to the Van Helsing clan... And he had mentioned a "Darkwing." He felt his throat close tightly, his eyes began to burn... At last there was a chance... of...?

"So... Are you here for Oswald?" Zenox asked in a murmur. Darkwing frowned and a moment and a crooked smile appeared in his great beak.

"...Not really. I learned about your friend's existence ... A few weeks ago? Actually, he's like the coin trampled and full of dirt that I found on the way to the main treasure, but it makes everything more interesting, if not extraordinary."

"Ehm... thanks?" Oswald said confused, then angry. "Wait, 'trampled and full of dirt coin'?!"

"Oh, stop whining, kiddo. Just a little of work and you would become an ancient gold coin that could be pretty valuable, but now is not the point..." He suddenly adopted a serious expression. "I'm investigating something here."

"Investigating?" All the children said in unison.

* * *

"One goes where there are rumors, where there seems to be a stench of darkness; And there is a stench here." Darkwing said, pulling an iron flask from his coat and taking a sip, then offering it to Oswald, but the rabbit refused. Both were sitting on the ledge of an old church, watching the afternoon progress slowly. Ortensia had said goodbye to Oswald telling her that she and Mrs. Tweed would wait for him at home. (Felix made mocking noises when he heard that), while Felix and Zenox went on to continue their day's work at the bar. Oswald asked the mallard to talk to him more, especially, including why he was there in the town.

"So, the vampire from before... Wasn't the only one...?"

"No, no; He was the only vampire in the area, kiddo. What is there is not as unpleasant as a vampire... But it can still cause big problems."

Oswald thought for a moment: "Would they be... the rumors of missing people after the vampire died...?"

Darkwing smiled slightly. "At least you have something in that skull you have there. One could say that yes. And the causes are apparently not monsters ... But they are also just as ruthless."

"Do you know who they are...?" Oswald whispered.

"If I knew, I'd now be telling you about my feat of hunting them, kiddo. What I do know is that they're a group of mortals with pretensions of gods." He paused to drink again and when he saw Oswald's surprised face, he continued. "Vampires and other creatures of darkness are seen differently: Some see them with fear, others see them with respect... And others, as something to worship and imitate. Well, this group... Or rather sect, is hidden somewhere in this remote town, looking for ways to become vampires or creatures of darkness... using rituals associated with sacrifices." He stood up, adjusting his purple cape and flexing his back. "This will give a good amount of money, so if you want to take part..."

"Take part? What do you mean? Oswald asked incredulously. Darkwing looked at him with exasperation.

"You're a Van Helsing, aren't you? Then you could dig up your hidden and true potential so that you don't rely on pure blows of dumb luck like last time."

"What?! You're confused, sir," Oswald replied with a frown. "...What true and hidden potential? I don't have any, I didn't choose to be born with this last name! Do you know how many teasing and insults I've endured every time I say my entire name? They used to make fun of me and now they come looking for me because they say I'm a hunter and get them out of trouble!" Oswald snapped bitterly, staring at him. "I'm not an errand boy, much less a hero... Or a killer. I'm just... I'm just me, just Oswald."

"...Alright, 'just Oswald': Do you consider yourself a killer for killing a vampire?" Oswald didn't answer, just looked at the floor with a conflicted expression. Darkwing ghosted a smile at the corners of his beak. "In part it's understandable, the first hunt, the first kill, that is never forgotten..." Oswald sank further; he didn't want to remember (or even mention) the nightmares with the vampire and the cemetery... "Yep, yep, yep... one gets scared as fuck thinking that one has sinned by ending a life... But, will it really hurt your soul that you have purged a disgusting and soulless life like that monster? Yeah, you did it awkwardly, it's true..." Oswald looked at him frowningly "...But you saved lives that night, Oswald. And those that were reaped have already been avenged."

"Avenged, huh?" The rabbit murmured remembering Fanny's face in that church, in that photography, like a ghost... He didn't want to imagine how should have been for Ortensia seen the image of her friend suddenly opening her eyes before being swallowed by a wall of fire... And everything had been caused by that creature. He sighed. "…I suppose you're right."

"No, you don't suppose... I was always right." Darkwing declared proudly. Oswald looked at him scowling, but then...

"...Oswald!"

"Ortensia?!" Oswald exclaimed, alarmed. Down in the street, the female black cat ran towards them, looking totally terrified. Darkwing grabbed Oswald's waist and brought themselves cleanly down to the floor. Then, the rabbit ran to Ortensia, grabbing her by the shoulders, noticing that she was trembling. "What's going on?! Are you ok?!"

"Yes... yes... I'm fine, but Mrs. Tweed is not. A group of weird people in black clothes and on horseback stormed the market and took several people, including Mrs. Tweed," Ortensia said almost stammering, pale as wax. "...They were taken in the direction of the old and collapsed stone bridge. People are terrified and don't know what to do."

"Did you say the abandoned stone bridge, miss?" Darkwing asked Ortensia, who nodded. After a few seconds of silence, he punched his left palm with the other hand. "Eureka!"

"What? What happens now?" Oswald asked nervously.

"Think, kiddo! The stone bridge that overlooks the river! And apart from a bridge, what else is in a river? Sewers! The sect is in the sewers!"

"Are you sure about that? What if you're wrong?" Oswald replied. Darkwing snorted.

"Well, if the attempt is not made, there will be the corpse of the good Mrs. Tweed and the rest of the poor wretches as evidence." Ortensia let out a strangled groan of horror at those words; Oswald looked furiously at the mallard and was about to claiming him for saying that, but fell silent when he saw the icy expression of the hunter duck. "...But we could avoid that nasty scene."

"How?!" Oswald insisted on the edge of despair. Darkwing gave him an exasperatedly enigmatic look.

"Maybe... working together. Since you don't consider yourself a hero, a hunter or a killer... Then maybe 'just Oswald' can do something useful."

It was obvious that the duck was making fun of him, but the black rabbit decided to let it pass... There was something more important to do now... He turned to see Ortensia, who was livid and mouth clenched. "Ortensia, go home and lock yourself up, but before that, get people to the river, if they're armed, better."

"...And not only with torches and machetes, but bring salt, lots of salt. As well as all the priests available in this town to bless the river," Darkwing added. In the face of the rabbit's surprise, he added: "...It's just in case we find something worse than lunatics. Can you do that for us, miss Ortensia?"

The female cat nodded and whispering a "Be careful, Oswald", accompanied by an unexpected hug (which left the rabbit disturbed for a moment), she went running towards the square. Oswald remained lost looking in the direction where she had run... Until he heard a throat clearing from Darkwing, turning to him ashamed. "Ehhmm... I'll go find my friends... Yes, we were thieves and tramps before reforming us, so we know some points in the city. They will help me."

Darkwing looked at him skeptically for a moment, but then nodded with a decisive smile. "Splendid. I'll go to the abandoned bridge and see you there." He held out his hand, waiting for a squeeze.

Oswald hesitated a moment. Was this really happening? In the end he took a deep breath and squeezed it back.

"...Oswald, let's get dangerous."

**o.o.o**

Certainly Oswald had said it hastily: He wouldn't even let his friends accompany him on such a dangerous sudden mission... But obviously Felix and Zenox would help him without hesitation. Upon returning to the bar, his two friends were waiting at the entrance, rigid and serious... They knew what was happening, they had heard all the fuss from there. In explaining the situation, Zenox stepped forward decisively.

"If that ol' lady helped you recover after your confrontation with the vampire, of course we're going to help you rescue her!"

"Yes, Ozzie, don't ever think you're going to go to the wolf's mouth alone again... But I don't understand, why would it be in the sewers and why you?"

"Do you remember when we were hanging around the river and those drainage channels were there?" Oswald asked, with Felix and Zenox nodding. "It's very small; An adult like Darkwing couldn't enter there, but we could. It would be better to attack them in surprise and rescue Mrs. Tweed and the others."

"How will we do that? How do we defend ourselves against them?" Felix asked. Oswald took some round objects out of his pocket. His friends bowed to see them better. "Balls?"

"They're smoke bombs, Darkwing gave them to me. He's waiting for us on the old bridge right now."

Felix raised his eyebrows. "...Just hours ago we had fought with him, apart from that he humiliated you, twice... And now you're trusting him? Do you really think he's a former friend of your family?" Oswald was silent for a moment... yes, it was quite true what Felix was saying: Darkwing was an outsider, a stranger for them... But still...

"...I have to find out, I'm sure he knows what really happened to my parents... And if I have to continue his game to know, then I will."

The church bells rang thundering next to the iron horns, marking both the arrival of dusk... And the alarm. Torches, sticks, machetes and huge salt lumps went from hand to hand, people ran in all directions... It was as if the entire city was preparing for an external invasion... or an internal attack.

The last rays of orange sun were reflected in the piercing icy blue eyes of Darkwing Duck, who waited at one end of the ruined bridge, so stiff that he looked like a gargoyle, waiting... Things had taken a very interesting turn since he heard that name... That rabbit's name.

"Let's see how you're doing in this arena, Oswald Van Helsing."

**To be continued.**

**To be continued.**

* * *

**Glossary:**

**(1)** It's also known as Scopolamine, Burundanga (In Spanish) or "Devil's Breath", an alkaloid extracted from plants such as estramonium (Datura stramonium) or brugmansia/Angel's Trumpet (Brugmansia arborea)

**At last, the mentor, the third and last architect of Oswald Van Helsing has revealed himself!**

**What secrets will the sewers reveal? Any connection to the strange vampire cult from before? What is Darkwing looking for?**

_**Stay tuned!**_


	13. Tithes and Oblations

We're FINALLY at the end of the first season of Oswald Van Helsing! Time to end the sewer terror regimen... and start a new page in Oswald's life.

**XIII**

**Tithes and ****Oblations**

Oswald, Felix, and Zenox raced to the edge of the river, at that hour in unusual calm despite the screaming sounds of the villagers behind them, no doubt in a panic. Aside from the odd smoke bombs, the friends carried small knives in their pockets... as well as garlic in their pockets (just in case). The path was dark and guided by Felix's ability to see in the dark. The three of them were nervous, especially Oswald, his mouth was clenched trying to avoid thinking of the worst scenario for Mrs. Tweed: She was alive... She was alive... However, at the moment they reached the old bridge that overlooked the forest (A construction of limestone that was half collapsed due to lack of maintenance), the children noticed that Darkwing was nowhere to be found... Felix turned to look at Oswald with raised eyebrows. The rabbit was going to say something, but a harsh voice came before them.

"At _last_ you arrive! Are you going to do what you have to do? I'll be waiting for you outside."

"Where are you? Let yourself see!" Felix exclaimed between confusion and irritation, trying to see something; in the shadows there was a chuckle.

"And _ruin_ my entry? That is not what a hunter from _my_ _experience_ _does_. You're a long way from entering the job, "Darkwing replied dismissively. "Go ahead. And don't let them bite you."

Oswald opened the mouth to reply, but Zenox grabbed him by the shoulder, causing him to give up. Still frowning, the rabbit followed his friends to the edge of the river, where one of the columns that made up the base of the bridge stood, surrounded by large pieces of stone (pieces of the same bridge) filled with moss; In one side from the base of the bridge, there was a tunnel made of rusty iron, no doubt the sewer outlet. The three children looked at each other for a moment, doubtful: They could definitely enter there, but the total darkness added to the stench of stagnant water and other debris wasn't very reassuring... But at that moment they heard voices in the distance, no doubt from the citizens that (somehow, Oswald thought with a smile) Ortensia had convinced them to meet there and wait for the "_signal_"... which would be to get Mrs. Tweed out, the hostages... And whatever was holding them inside. They went down to the riverbed and stood at the entrance, with Felix and his lantern eyes leading the way, then Zenox and finally Oswald with their ears held high to catch any strange sounds.

The tunnel was narrow and they had to go single file, holding on to each other's clothes so as not to part. They didn't have to duck very low, but it was still uncomfortable, especially as they moved through muddy water and moldy walls. The smell was pungent, and the friends made an effort not to vomit the beer they had drunk, breathing by the mouth. After a few minutes, Felix stopped, looking at his friends.

"I see something back there. It looks like a chamber. Be ready." He whispered to them. Oswald and Zenox nodded, pulling out their daggers. The cat nodded and continued. The children saw a faint glow at the end of the road, so they hurried on. When they got there, they stopped, leaving Felix to poke his head out to take a look. A few seconds later he signaled to his friends to watch as well:

It was a greenish stone chamber with a vaulted ceiling, the glow of which came from a hole with grilles in the ceiling where moonlight filtered. In the center was a long square channel that ran all over the place, no doubt made so that the sewer water would pass to the exit tunnel... Apart from another tunnel that was at the end of the cleft (and which was the only way to continue), the most disturbing thing were strange tapestries on the walls, red and with a strange golden cross... There was definitely someone (some) living down there, in the middle of that stench.

Oswald sharpened his ear, noticing a strange sound coming from the tunnel. Urging their friends to continue, the three children set out to explore the new tunnel. It was bigger and drier, but the stench was stronger, as there was not only standing water, but also a smell that Oswald and his friends knew well: Blood. The rabbit saw the orange cabbit tremble, so Oswald squeezed his shoulder to calm him and himself. On the walls were chains nailed to the wall, something completely out of place to be a sewer, and a gasp from Felix alerted them to something else there: On the floor were pieces of clothing, shoes... and bones. "...Look... look there..." Felix whispered in a broken voice, pointing to a point. As they got closer, they saw a jumble of blue cloth next to a few strands of black hair... And pointed shoes that reminded too much of the ones he wore...

"...The police _never_ caught him, it was _them_. Those who have _pretensions_ to gods," Oswald whispered angrily, feeling himself tremble from ears to toes. Zenox and Felix, equally distressed and horrified, looked at him strangely. Oswald was going to explain to them, but again the noise he had picked up was heard again, noting that it was gasps... Was it possible that ...? "Let's go, I hear something." And he moved on, with his friends rushing to follow him. Oswald strode forward, still silent, clinging to the bit of faith he had: Was Mrs. Tweed still alive? Could they get out of there without something horrible chasing them? When they reached a point in the tunnel where there were about three bifurcations, making them stop... But Oswald, after a few moments, entered the one on the right.

They kept going, until they reached another chamber just as big as the first one and with the same indentation… As well as bodies on the ground and glued along one of the walls. People! With shaky breaths, the children counted: There were six in all, tied hands and eyes closed, as if they're sleeping. There were children and grown-ups, but Oswald ran to the oldest of all: An older lady whose purple hat made her stand out even in the dim light. He knelt in front of her, beginning to shake her.

"Mrs. Tweed? Mrs. Tweed, it's me, Oswald! Please talk to me!" Oswald whispered desperately. Meanwhile, Felix was preparing to untie the other five with the help of his claws while Zenox stood guard at the entrance to the tunnel, since that chamber had only a slit in the wall for the water to pass. After a few minutes, the old woman opened her eyes, trying to focus on who was in front of her.

"Oswald, sweetie, _is_ that you?"

"Yes, it's me! Are you okay? Who took you here?" Oswald asked hurriedly, noting with dismay that the once energetic housekeeper seemed stunned, as if it was hard for her to stay awake… And also there was a strange smell that emanated from her every time she breathed; Felix, untying the last hostage, expressed his same thoughts.

"It looks like they've been drugged, but I'm not sure. Just look at what's around... It seems as if... they were going to use them for some strange sacrifice." the cat mumbled, pointing to the other walls: In addition to the rugs, there were instruments on the floor, star-shaped marks and other drawings on the walls and floor painted a haunting red color. The stench of blood was undoubtedly stronger there than in the tunnel corridor… And strangest of all: There were skins of some kind of animal and withered wings on the ground, even near them, thanks to the fact that Zenox had brought his lighter silver and had lit it, illuminating everything... It was as if the one or those who lived there, whoever they were, was raising some kind of winged creature, and judging by the size of the dead skins... It was something bigger than the three of them.

They had to get out of there now.

"We'll know after, but we have to get out of here," Oswald urged, helping Mrs. Tweed to get up, noting that the old woman seemed to stagger when standing upright. The moment they managed to get all the hostages up, a gasp from Zenox alerted them.

"Something is coming here!" He said in a shrill voice, backing away, there was a huge and round shadow crawling towards them ... A few moments later, they saw that it was an abnormally large grasshopper, much bigger than they were even, approaching and moving the jaws... Definitely that wasn't a grasshopper that eats grains or plants... "What do we do?!"

Oswald doubted. That thing was much bigger than the vampire, and none of them had guns at hand. The three of them could face the monster at the same time, but he doubted that they could beat him and they had to get Mrs. Tweed and the others out of there...

_"Don't waste them, kiddo."_

_"...But what the hell can I do with this?"_

_"Just throw them at an enemy, they explode on impact. They are especially useful if you want to stun before attacking."_

He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the smoke bombs Darkwing had given him, they were the size of a ping pong ball. He threw it with all his might at the monster... The bomb, as Darkwing had said, _exploded_ on impact, enveloping the giant insect in a thick cloud of green, making it flutter. An intense scent enveloped them, no doubt some kind of chemical. To the cry of "Run!" from Felix, Oswald and the others ran. The rabbit was holding Mrs. Tweed by the waist, because she looked like she was going to fall with every step. They passed the grasshopper, who reared in shrieks, into the tunnel. They ran as fast as they could, noting with horror that there were buzzing noises ahead of them... Then, when they got to where the bifurcation was, they stopped abruptly: Erect was a strange man in a black robe and a dirty face, smiling at Oswald and the others with a strange, crooked smile, as if in a trance.

"They won't be able to leave ... Fate is inevitable. We have come to take another step on the scale of humanity, to achieve the desired immortality... Let us give you this gift, let us..."

"Being eaten by those monsters _is_ a _gift_? Check your perception, mate," Felix interrupted, but at that moment, the buzz sounds grew louder, coming from the main tunnel from which they had entered: Half a dozen individuals in robes and gone expressions had also emerged... Along with a handful of giant grasshoppers with green metallic-colored flying insects, with round bodies and whose pincers oozed a horrible greenish slim ... They were trapped and they knew it.

...But at that moment, a sound of bells reached Oswald's sensitive ears, which he realized was coming from the first bifurcation to his left... If they still had a chance...

" Eat this!" Oswald screeched suddenly, pulling out three of the last four smoke bombs he had, tossing them into the group of men and insects, stunning them between coughs by the colored smoke. "Run!" Oswald shouted, running toward the tunnel to the left, still holding Mrs. Tweed against him. The darkness was almost total and was only guided by the sound ... He prayed that the chimes he had heard hadn't come from another of those lunatics... They reached the end, realizing it was a dead end, they were about to going into despair and panic, when a voice was heard from above:

"Well, I _wanted_ to fish goons, but what I got is _not_ _bad_ either!"

"Mr. Darkwing!" Zenox exclaimed before Oswald opened his mouth. He went ahead of the others, still using the lighter to light the way, raising his arm: Above them, in an upward-facing tunnel, was a flash of white feathers. "We are here! How do we go up?!"

"We can go up here!" Oswald exclaimed, pointing to some indentations in the wall that seemed to serve as stairs. A noise from above, coupled with a sudden blue glow from the moon that appeared, meant that Darkwing had cleared the way for them to climb and exit. He gently pushed Mrs. Tweed, urging her to come up, followed by the other hostages. They all climbed awkwardly, sometimes slipping or mistyping, for a few moments giving the impression that Mrs. Tweed would fall backwards and take those behind with her to the ground again... After a few moments of intense tension, Oswald and his friends finally saw a pair of white feathered hands grabbing the old woman by the arms and dragged her up. Sighing in relief, Zenox began to climb, followed by Felix. Oswald was about to climb when the buzzes were heard again... It was them. "Come up fast!" the rabbit exclaimed, pulling out the last smoke bomb and throwing it into the hallway, knowing that it would save him some time. He began to climb quickly, counting the seconds he had, noticing that the glow from the exit was getting closer. Just a few more seconds...

An orange fur hand came out and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him out... And see Zenox's relieved face.

"This has to be closed, quickly" Felix urged from the other side of the exit, trying to push up an extremely large iron gate. There the rabbit noticed that they weren't in the river bed, but rather in the town square. Several people were around, including Mrs. Tweed, still looking totally gone. Before Oswald decided between going to her or helping the black cat block the entrance, a tremor from the bottom of the sewer tube caused everyone to back off... And to everyone's horror, a dozen giant grasshoppers and insects flying came out in flock into the night sky, looking directly at them... They were their prey and they knew it. Around, the villagers began to back away scared, their tridents and torches would not be enough... And the few with pistols wouldn't be able to hit everyone...

"_Here_, beasts!" Darkwing's voice was still heard between the screams for Oswald, the rabbit turned towards the roofs, where he saw a white and purple blur run along the roofs holding what appeared to be a lit flare.

The round-bodied insects immediately approached him, followed by one of the grasshoppers. Oswald and the others watched the masked mallard leap across the roofs with incredible agility, with the horde of insects right on his heels until, upon reaching a church, he ran to the tip of a gargoyle and leaped forward, just standing in front of a grasshopper... In a fraction of seconds, Darkwing was in the air in front of the giant insect and in a quick movement, a bright flash was seen and the insect was cut diagonally, squirting a dark liquid, as Darkwing landed on the ground in front of Oswald and the others with a huge military-style blade in his hand, smeared with the same liquid along the blade. "Finish off those who fall!" The duck exclaimed harshly, and then releasing the blade, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a strange rather large paper wand, aiming for the cloud of insects, now pouncing directly at him.

Oswald, Felix, and Zenox ran to put Mrs. Tweed and the other hostages under cover as Oswald turned to see the hunter: Using a lighter, Darkwing ignited the end of the paper tube, and suddenly fireworks began to shoot toward the insects, giving them several and making them fall. The duck was using a simple firecracker rod as if it were a cannon! The rabbit was stunned, watching Darkwing rid himself of the monster cloud with brutal efficiency as more and more giant insects fell to the ground, some trying to get back up... Oswald didn't think about it: Taking the nearest stick, he separated from his friends and Mrs. Tweed and ran towards one of the insects that was still trying to get up, raising the stick and with a cry of rage, hitting the monster with all his might on the head and sides; He was hitting with all his might, remembering the clothes and bones of Flynn Ryder in that stinking corner... It was horrible, it was inhuman. Dark liquid began to spurt with the force of the blows, splashing it in the face, but the rabbit kept hitting the insect until he left it as a disgusting mass of limbs and black pulp on the ground... Not noticing that behind him, one grasshopper lunged for him... But before he could turn to dodge, a shriek from the monster was heard: Zenox, out of who knows where, had pounced on the grasshopper, burying a butcher blade in the middle of the monster's neck, making him collapse to the ground, this time inert. Oswald smiled at his friend.

"Thanks mate!" The rabbit exclaimed with relief, as the cabbit stood up again, staring in disbelief at what had just happened.

"You're ... you're welcome, Ozzie." Zenox muttered, still puzzled. Suddenly they saw more insects still trying to get up on the ground, so both friends rushed towards them, hitting and slashing them violently, noticing that several of the villagers ran to help finish off the fallen insects, going through them with their tridents, tearing them apart with machete blows and throwing burning torches at them. Meanwhile, Darkwing had emptied the firecracker rod and was now using two pistols and shooting those left in the air, leaving those left with bullet holes in their heads or wings, to finish being destroyed by Oswald, Zenox, and the villagers. From a makeshift trench made with flour sacks and barrels, Felix coordinated so that the hostages were taken to a safe place.

"Mr. Darkwing, there are a group of robed people in the sewers! They kidnapped people and used them to feed those critters!" Oswald shouted to the feathered hunter, still hitting insects. "They told us they wanted to give us a 'gift' of immortality!"

"_Yep, yep, yep_, I love being right, you know Oswald." Darkwing interjected, shooting at the last insect - a grasshopper - which, as it fell to the ground, immediately the mallard threw himself over it, sinking the butt of his gun to its head, which had a kind of integrated blade.

After a few moments, there were only bodies beaten, gutted, burned, and with bullet holes... A complete massacre, and the villagers celebrated with shouts of joy: They had been able to defend themselves against monsters. Some of them, no doubt from the upper class, approached the white mallard, praising him. Although the duck was pleased by the attention, he looked away to see Oswald standing near him. "How can we thank you, hunter? Surely you want a juicy reward."

Darkwing was silent and then snorted: "Save the alms for later, we must go help the group that stayed in the river in case those lunatics escaped... But later I will ask for a reward... For me and Oswald Van Helsing and his two little friends. They're the ones who took the hostages out, so it's half and half." Oswald, Zenox, and Felix couldn't believe what they heard, but they didn't have time to ask, for Darkwing raised a hand in the air. "Some go to the river to support; others stay to clean up this mess...! Oswald." He added looking directly at the black rabbit, who almost jumped. "I need a good pair of ears to accompany me down there to go punish some evildoers."

Oswald almost came close to saying yes. Even though the worst part of the threat had been controlled, there were still those damned people who killed Flynn Ryder down there, perhaps trying to escape the lynching... He wanted so badly to participate, he opened his mouth to say yes... But by the corner of his eye he spotted Mrs. Tweed, alone, next to Felix in the trench; the other five victims apparently had already been claimed by their relatives; the poor housekeeper seemed about to fall asleep, leaning against a bundle of flour. Oswald looked at her for a moment and then said to Darkwing: "Sorry, but I _need_ to get Mrs. Tweed back to Ortensia's house. I'm not sure, but I think they've drugged her and she's disoriented." The black rabbit explained resolutely. Darkwing raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I suppose the poor old lady needs to be looked after properly," Oswald wasn't sure if Darkwing was saying it sarcastically or not... "But well, however you like. Just don't take too long, it's _fun_ to participate in lynching. He started to walk away from the rabbit, changing the bullets in his pistol. "Still, I still need a good pair of ears. Does anyone want to join?"

Oswald was about to laugh. Accompany him down there, with those lunatics who avoided by pure luck? But then, Zenox stepped forward: "Uhm, Mr. Darkwing... I can hear well too. I can go. "The white mallard blinked for a moment and nodded. In the trench, Felix looked at Oswald.

"Take Mrs. Tweed, I will accompany Zenox so that he's not alone with that mean bird." He patted the rabbit on the shoulder, grinning crookedly. "At least it was a fun adventure, just like the old days, wasn't it?"

"You can bet it," Oswald conceded. After saying goodbye and agreeing that his friends would go to Ortensia's house to look for him, the black rabbit approached the old woman, taking her arm carefully. "Let's go home, Mrs. Tweed." Still clearly stunned, the old lady smiled with relief. Even in the midst of the remaining commotion of people cleaning the bodies of the insects, Oswald could see Zenox and Felix enter the sewer, followed by Darkwing and a couple of brave enough villagers to enter there. He moved away from the square, holding the old woman firmly against him.

* * *

"Oswald, Mrs. Tweed!" By the time they reached the threshold and he was pounding on the door a third time with the back of his fist, an almost disturbed Ortensia had pounced on them, helping him carry Mrs. Tweed more easily, now almost on the verge of fainting. As she peppered Oswald with several questions, including one: "Are you okay? What was...?"

"Down? A handful of lunatics who pretend to be gods and who had monsters at their service... But everything is fine now, but, Mrs. Tweed..."

Ortensia nodded as she seated Mrs. Tweed in a rocking chair in the living room, checking her lost eyes. At that time, J.P. Whiskers and Homer (both in pajamas and sleep caps) entered the room, both very upset. "Ortensia, why aren't you in bed?!" Mr. Whiskers thundered, glaring at Oswald and then looking at his daughter.

To Oswald's surprise, the female black cat stood up, having been kneeling looking for Mrs. Tweed's pulse. "I don't know if you noticed, father, but Oswald went with his friends to rescue Mrs. Tweed from those crazy people who took her from the market. Didn't you hear the commotion outside?! _Everyone_ is talking about it!"

"We didn't even notice, we're busy with work," Homer said with a gesture of rejection with his hand. Then he wrinkled his face as if he had eaten rotten meat. "Boy, you smell like water with shit! Where the hell did you wallow, on the dung heap where you worked before?"

Ortensia turned pale, then flushed red. There was no doubt that it was going to explode, and although Oswald was interested in seeing how a high society girl answered her brother, he decided to cut her off. "Yes, Mr. Homer, I'm going to wash up. Ortensia, take Mrs. Tweed to her bed, I'll be back with you."

"Sure... Sure, Oswald. And thanks once again. Ortensia murmured, approaching the collapsed old woman. Oswald was preparing to go up to the second floor when J.P. Whiskers shot him an icy look as he passed him.

"I _imagine_ that for doing this, we're _going_ to have to hold you here for _another_ _month_ for your 'good deed', _aren't_ we?" The old cat replied in a cold, mocking tone... Oswald held back as much as he could from not spitting on him right there. Ortensia clicked her tongue and then said in a poisonous tone that the rabbit had never heard her before:

"Well, _now_ he works for me. And what he did was help _YOUR_ housekeeper... Or did you want Mrs. Tweed, the one who leaves your breeches and Homer's soft as you want, to die down there? I don't think you would have been amused to hire another housekeeper and go through the exhaustive process of teaching her to clean them as you wish... _Isn't_ it, father of mine?"

J.P. Whiskers, as well as Homer, were speechless. With one foot on the step, Oswald looked between grateful and amazed at Ortensia, feeling his heart was warming, despite the cold of the room. Holding his laughter at the sight of their faces, the black rabbit rushed up the stairs.

After rubbing himself vigorously with soap and scouring pad for a very long time and rinsing off with the stronger plant ointment that Ortensia had left for him in the medicine box, Oswald went back down to the first floor, where he knew that Mrs. Tweed's room was near the kitchen. He had come in before when he had to clean or change the sheets, but still felt the same warmth from the first time, with its flower pots, pictures on the wall depicting red foxes and the crochet pillows on the wide bed, where precisely the old woman was lay down. Ortensia, still wearing a colorful wool blanket over her nightgown, constantly soaked the woman's forehead with a wet rag and spoke softly to her. Noticing the presence of the rabbit, the female black cat smiled.

"Weren't they hold you before coming?" She asked. Oswald, understanding what she meant, shook his head. "Seriously, I'm sorry for what my father and brother get to say... They aren't prudent sometimes. That works for business, but not for other things."

"Don't worry, Ortensia. I got _used_ to it," Oswald purposely lied, to not worry his friend anymore. He got closer to bed. "Do you know what she has?"

"Definitely a type of drug that numbs you. At least you can see that her pulse is fine, so all we have to do is wait for her to recover, keeping an eye on her." She replied, looking at Mrs. Tweed, breathing heavily. At least she was out of danger, Oswald thought with relief. It only remained to wait.

At that instant, the doorbell began to ring insistently, making the distant but clearly angry voice of J. P. Whiskers be heard, asking someone to open the damn door to see who it was. Oswald got up immediately and went to open, remaining stunned: They were Felix and Zenox. "How did it go? Are you guys okay?"

The black cat and the orange cabbit looked at each other. "We went down and... They were all _dead_." Zenox whispered. Oswald blinked, puzzled and livid. What the hell had happened? "Mr. Darkwing checked them and said they apparently swallowed a poison... He _wasn't_ very happy when he checked the last one, we heard him."

"...Heh, maybe he thought he would get more rewards if he brought them to justice." Oswald muttered shakily, trying to hide his anger and disappointment. Then a dry rasp was heard behind them. He turned slowly, trying not to grimace: J. P. Whiskers.

"If you are going to continue the gathering, you _better_ do it in your own house. You _can_ accompany them, Van Helsing, since you seem very interested." the old cat said with mocking tone, crossing his arms. "Tell me to close the door at once and..."

"_No_, I wasn't upset about that, I will still demand my half and half that I requested before our unsuccessful search," None other than Darkwing Duck intervened, appearing out of nowhere, right behind Felix and Zenox, who nearly jumped from the scare. "I could give all of you the remaining details of what we found, if you want we can do it inside and with a cup of tea to calm your nerves." He added in a quiet tone. J.P. Whiskers stared at him.

"...And _this_ duck in harlequin clothes, _who_ the hell is?" the old cat asked scornfully. Darkwing shot him an unfathomable glance, eyebrows raised.

"The one who just _saved_ your ass and the ones from your village from man-eating giant bugs, good sir." The masked mallard replied with a dismissive smile. The old cat snorted, and muttering a "these goddamn hunters..." He retreated inside, slamming the door shut behind Oswald... After an awkward silence, Darkwing scratched the back of his neck, something uncomfortable. "..._Woops_, I think they left you out, kiddo."

Oswald cast a scornful glance at the door. "I still have the key to get in, and I don't think that old man has _enough_ time to call a locksmith at this hour. So, those details...

"_Yep, yep, yep._ I'll explain everything." Darkwing conceded, turning away. "Come with me, there is a bar nearby that offers fantastic cheese." And he walked briskly out of the outer gate of the house. After hesitating for a moment, the three children ran after him.

* * *

They arrived at a bar that at that time, despite the mess that still existed in the plaza with the insects and the apparent suicides in the sewer, was still open. The bartender, recognizing them, melted into curtsies and attentions that Darkwing dismissed with a gesture, although the complacency on his face at the praise was very evident. The four sat at a table away from the premises, despite being somewhat empty. The adult asked for a large bottle of liquor and a basket of bread and cheese, which the children eagerly set out to eat. Darkwing just watched them with amusement as he filled the pitchers with the drink, offering them and laughing when he saw them cough with teary eyes: They weren't used to whiskey, it showed. After allowing them to recover sufficiently, the eccentric hunting duck explained the situation.

"It would be stupid at this point to ask if I'm a hunter, because I am. One of vast experience and rank, as your friend Ortensia splendidly summed up. Usually you look for hunters in guilds or in a royal court, but I flap in the night alone," he said with an arrogant touch that made Oswald and Felix raise their eyebrows. "I came here to investigate some "enlightened people" who have nothing better to do than idolize and work with the creatures of darkness... All with the desire to achieve immortality and power."

"That's what that guy told us before we escaped," Zenox interjected, "but, aren't we supposed to achieve immortality by reaching paradise when... we die?"

"Immortality will be attained by our souls, if we're worthy of it... but what these clowns want is physical immortality, and the power that comes with it... And that demons and monsters are said to offer them." Darkwing replied, stirring the leftover whiskey from his glass, abstracted; "If you want my opinion, that's bullshit: Vampires and other monsters see mortals like us as _cattle_ and _toys_, never as _partners_ or _friends_... However, they use credulous mortals to achieve their ends... These "enlightened people" never will accept the opposite, that's why they prefer to commit suicide than accept their stupidities... As it happened now."

"And... how did they get there? How did those insects get there? How can they grow to that size?" Oswald asked. The duck crossed his arms.

"You still don't realize what the monsters are, Oswald? They're more than the vampire you killed by stupid luck _("And he keeps stressing it,"_ Oswald thought bitterly) ...There are many, thousands of monsters, and that's what monster hunters like me do or your..."

"You _know_ about my family!" Oswald interrupted him, getting up. "You know about the Van Helsing clan, right? Then _tell_ me!" He stared at him anxiously, on the verge of snorting as he saw Darkwing drink a sip of whiskey irritatingly slowly… Then he linked his feathered fingers under his beak.

"…Well, what you already know thanks to our unnecessary fight: Rueben and Susanna Van Helsing. They were great hunters, a good team... The last thing I knew about them, many years ago, is that they were killed by monsters in the East ... But there were doubts among us, kiddo: I never believed that they died from monsters... I think it was some of those "enlightened" worshipers who are still hiding like dirty rats... And I have been investigating, because those clowns are a threat to everyone, and you _saw_ it for yourself."

"So that means there are more of those crazies out there," Felix ventured, "that means your _'investigation'_ is still going on, right?"

"You bet, kiddo. But it wasn't all a waste, you know? I found something interesting."

"Something interesting? What is it?"

"_Isn't_ obvious, Oswald? You, naturally." Darkwing replied. "You told me in our charming conversation that you are not a hero or a killer... No, you are nothing like that: _You're_ a hunter. _Not_ only because it comes in your veins... but because _you are_."

"_Again_ with _that?!_" Oswald snapped angrily. "Don't you get it? I do not…

"I get it _perfectly_, kiddo. Not only because of the vampire, but also because of this: Honestly, I didn't expect any of you to come out alive down there… But you _did_. I saw you hit and kill fallen bugs effectively with the help of your friend Zenox." And he nodded at the cabbit, who blushed at the unexpected compliment. "...So you can _drop_ the silly denials and _accept_ it, that's the first step." Darkwing concluded, pouring himself more whiskey, with a smirk. The rabbit was left with nothing hurtful to say, so he folded his arms.

"Very well... Let's _suppose_ I don't _deny_ my 'destiny'... And how would I do that, eh? Didn't you just say that I killed the vampire awkwardly and with stupid luck?" At that, the duck clicked its tongue.

"Bah, that's _ridiculously_ solvable... Is just with you keeping up with my rhythm." He said casually. Oswald was puzzled. "Wouldn't that be interesting?

"Interesting... becoming a hunter with your help?"

"Humm, I _wouldn't_ exactly say "_help_" because in the end, each hunter builds his own path." Darkwing replied quietly. "But you could learn something from my vast experience... It would be interesting for both of us: As the last and unknown Van Helsing emerges as a hunter thanks to the legendary hunter Darkwing Duck... Sounds good for the European court gazettes, _isn't_ it?

"Certainly, _especially_ for you," Oswald murmured, not ignoring the words he used. "..._What_ makes you think I will accept?"

Darkwing leaned on one hand, smirking. "Simple: You have something I want and I have something you want... An equivalent exchange, a _simple_ barter. You give me some... _boost_ to my somewhat stagnant career..."

"And _what_ do you _give_ me?" Oswald asked abruptly. Darkwing's icy eyes flashed.

"..._Information_ about your family. Including... their _headquarters_."

"Headquarters?" Felix and Zenox asked in confusion. The duck snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Their house, kids. _Your_ ancestral home."

Oswald didn't know what to think... The offer was made, with the conditions very clear: Go to a distant land... To his parents' home. The home that had been taken from him when he was five years old. Yes, Oswald didn't remember everything, but enough to be sure: He had been taken from his parents' land to here, to Sighiosara... He would finally know what happened to his family, if he really was the last of the Van Helsing clan... What really happened to his parents to close that wound.

...But the _price_ to _pay_? Leave Sighiosara with this outsider. Follow him and becoming his disciple. Go and _leave_ his friends, _leave_... Ortensia. Leave them for an _undetermined_ time.

It was impossible, _inadmissible_.

…Darkwing noted with interest the cruel battle that was forming in Oswald's mind, so he got up and placed a gold coin on the bar, adjusting his gray hat, looking at Oswald with a slight smile. "...I'll give you a day to think about it, kiddo. When you are ready, you look for me at dusk in the place where your _'baptism of blood'_ began."

And he left in a jumble of his purple cloak, leaving Oswald and his friends with the remains of breadcrumbs and the whiskey bottle, now half empty.

**…**

Oswald didn't return to Ortensia's house until dawn the next morning, after spending the night at _Tapper's_ with Felix and Zenox, gathering the rest of his old belongings and talking about the proposition. Oswald had been sure that his friends would tell him not to accept, that it was crazy, that it was stupid, that it was...

"What do you really want, Oswald?" Zenox had asked when he finished putting things away and after both he and Zenox had told him what they had seen in the sewers. Oswald didn't answer, bit his lip, and looked at the ground. " ...I mean, since we lived with Emily, your greatest wish was to know more about your family... To know if you are really the last of the Van Helsing family... It could be what you were looking for so much."

"And get away from you guys? We've _always_ been together," Oswald replied, shaking his head. "If I go with Mr. Darkwing to be his... disciple, how _long_ can that take? That won't take two weeks... It can take months... it can be years." He swallowed hard and looked at the ground. Then he had felt a soft weight on his shoulders: His friends were sitting on either side of him on the cot.

"..._Seriously_, you're very stupid to believe that our friendship will end by a simple departure, and it's for something you wish, Ozzie" Felix had replied with a sad smile "...Anyway, you have all day to think about it."

The black rabbit sighed and entered the house with the help of the key, noting to his relief that not even J.P. Whiskers or Homer were there. He went directly to Mrs. Tweed's room, where he found her sitting on her bed, pale, but at least conscious. Ortensia, sitting next to her in the bed with a tray of biscuits and a jug, greeted him with joy. The old woman asked him to approach her, and when Oswald sat on the bed, she leaned down and wrapped her thick arms around him. "...I _thought_ we were going to die down there, and you came for me. We owe you a lot, Oswald, _thank_ you, thank you very much…" she whispered as she hugged him. Oswald, beginning to tremble, curled up like a small child in the old lady's arms, closing his eyes tight. Ortensia just smiled, breaking a biscuits and offering it to Oswald with a glass of milk so he could eat something.

There was so much love and affection in that little room... Affection that maybe he wasn't going to feel for long.

He stiffened and gently pulled away from Mrs. Tweed, looking at his clasped hands. "…Mr. Darkwing asked me to accompany him and be his disciple to become a hunter like him, in return he would show me everything about my family. He gave me until sunset today to give my answer," Oswald mused to the two women, whom listened attentively. He swallowed and looked down, "I don't _know_ how _long_ it will be, and that's _why_ I don't want to go... It would be being away from you guys, and besides... I'm _not_ a hunter, I _can't_..."

"You can't, but you've still done things a _real_ hunter would _do_," Mrs. Tweed said softly, taking Oswald's cheek to make him look at her... "Not _only_ with the vampire, but also with me and the others in the sewers... I know the vampire thing was because they forced you, _I know_... But you had no obligation to this one, Oswald; You _were_ able to let Darkwing Duck take care of that… Ask yourself then: _Why?_

Oswald was silent for a moment and then the words came on their own: "Because you were in danger, and I… I _couldn't_ just stand there doing nothing, I…"

"Hunters have a bad reputation as mercenaries, but in the end, they _do_ what they do to help others." Ortensia mused, her voice strangely sharp. She leaned closer to Oswald and took him by the hand, making the rabbit blush. "_Whatever_ you decide, Mrs. Tweed and I will _support_ you." She added with conviction, with the old woman nodding vigorously.

Oswald didn't know what to say. His throat felt dry and tight, his breathing was heavy… Before the rabbit knew it, he had approached Mrs. Tweed for another hug, which the old woman returned immediately and warmly, while Ortensia reached out to squeeze his shoulders from behind.

**…**

The evening manifested itself in long shades of dark mauve on the edge of the site. The grassy gravel crunched under his enormous feet as he made his way up the esplanade toward the ruined old building. With each step he took, he felt that someone was watching him... That **_he_** was watching him. He had an intense desire to flee and at the same time to continue. He took a deep breath and entered the ruins, dodging the broken pieces of marble from the ceiling, walking directly towards the red-stained stone altar where, with the same warm smile on her stony face, was the statue of the Holy Virgin, now with traces of dried blood on her face and on her cloak.

How _strange_ it was to return to that place, to the place where the _'baptism of blood'_ began. It seemed like a lie that only a month and several days had passed since that fateful night where everything _changed_.

And _even_ if he refused and continued with his life as a worker, nothing would be the same... Because in the moment that another monster came to town to kill and destroy... Who _else_ would they _entrust_ to _kill_ it?

He stood in front of the altar, closing his eyes, remembering every moment of that fight with intensity, each blow and claw with vivid pain, as if the wounds hadn't yet healed. The nightmares with those red eyes and that death smell still appeared from time to time and now Oswald had resigned himself to it... All because of this last name that was a _curse_... And a _blessing_?

"…Thanks for coming, Oswald. I guess you _didn't_ come for the happy memories," a voice now _too_ familiar for him hissed. Oswald looked up, meeting Darkwing Duck's blue eyes, looking at him from one end of the roof of the mausoleum, like a hawk looking at a mouse... Oswald squeezed his fists for a moment, dispelling some last minute fear... He bent a knee on the ground, always facing upwards.

"I accept your proposal… _Master_.

The dark hunter's smile widened. _Perfect_.

_Everything_ was going according to the _plan_.

**...**

Oswald tried to sleep that night... He _really_ tried. He tossed and turned in bed, wondering if he could still back down, if he could just shut himself up so he didn't go to meet him and let all this sink… After the encounter in the cemetery, all the conditions of the deal were set: The rabbit would have a week to _"tidy everything up",_ as Darkwing had told him. That meant putting together a travel backpack with what he would need and spending the remaining time with loved ones. At the end, Darkwing handed him a relatively large bag of gold, leaving him dumbfounded.

"The half and half I requested, kiddo. Share it well or spend it all, you will see what you do."

Thus, along with the vampire reward that was still hidden, Oswald had more money than he had at the beginning of his life as a pawn. He immediately brought Felix and Zenox together and passed out the bag, telling them to use it to pay for months of leasing upfront at Tapper's and not go through any difficulties. His two friends hugged him tightly, promising that the night before they would make a _"last dinner"_ in some expensive bar.

Faithful to their word, both Ortensia and Mrs. Tweed supported Oswald's decision. In the house there was an air of expectation that wasn't foreign to J. P. Whiskers and Homer, whom knew it from the old woman... And after that, both the father and the son behaved in a hypocritical way with the black rabbit, asking him things like:

"Are you going to leave yet? I guess you're going to take a very long time away from here, right?

Oswald limited himself to answering that he didn't know, that that depended on his master... The truth is that Oswald didn't pay attention to them... But to Ortensia: Although the female black cat looked calm, sometimes he managed to see a shadow of sadness in her green eyes when he looked at her, making his heart feel _heavy_; When he tried to talk to her, something happened that interrupted them... And that something was J. P. Whiskers: The old cat was constantly looking for Oswald to run errands, at the same time ordering Ortensia to help Mrs. Tweed or to study in her room... Four days had already passed and he still couldn't speak to her, making him _increasingly_ angry...

"_Pssst_, Oswald, can you come help me change the sheets?" He heard Mrs. Tweed say. Oswald sighed, grumbling that another attempt to speak to Ortensia had been screwed up. He went into the housekeeper's room... And what he saw stunned him:

In the wide bed there wasn't only a pile of white sheets... but also, spread out on a colored knit blanket big enough to wrap himself in, were some things that Oswald immediately recognized: Emily's diary with the key and the vampire reward bag… And next to it, a pair of white long-sleeved shirts, pants, a long dark coat, a colorful crocheted scarf, gloves, thick socks and even a completely new pair of leather boots. Oswald blinked in disbelief, turned to see the old woman, who put a finger to her mouth, asking for silence.

"..._This_ is from Ortensia and me, Oswald. All this will be for your trip; I suppose the most necessary... We had realized that J.P. Whiskers _didn't_ give you a free time to stock up for your journey, so I hope that Mr. Darkwing won't complain about the excess of…" She couldn't say more, since Oswald had thrown himself to her neck, holding her in a tight hug, murmuring thanks over and over again; Mrs. Tweed smiled, stroking the young man's ears. "It is the least we can do, little one. For everything you've done for us... Oh, I almost forgot! I have something else for you: It's from Ortensia, but open it when you're alone, okay? Take the sheets with you right now!"

"Yes, yes, ma'am," Oswald whispered on the verge of tears, both moved and embarrassed by all the trouble these two women had taken for him. He took the sheets and the small wrapped package the old woman gave him and withdrew from there.

He didn't have peace until late at night to open the mysterious gift: Sitting on his bed, Oswald undid with trembling fingers the brightly colored wrapping to see a kind of rather worn pocket book; when he opened it, he noticed the beautiful and elegant calligraphy of Ortensia everywhere, as well as various drawings of plants... Completely fascinated, Oswald ran his fingers through the parchment pages, seeing above all the beautiful calligraphy, imagining Ortensia and her warm hand, composing words on them... Then a few words from a loose sheet caught his attention:

_**"Oswald, this is like a grimoire of plants; All my research is here: Plants that you can eat or you can use to treat your wounds... Although it's incomplete due to my limitations, I hope this helps you get around what life is going to throw at you. I know you can do it.**_

_**With love, Ortensia."**_

"_'With love... Ortensia'_," Oswald whispered, sliding his fingertips into those words on the paper, feeling his heart beat like a steam train.

* * *

Only one day left.

Oswald was very busy from early morning: He finished going through the things in his travel backpack, arranging everything so that the two little books (Emily's and Ortensia's) were well hidden, he could never lose them. He went down to the kitchen for breakfast and noticed that Mrs. Tweed was waiting for him with a bowl of cold Moorish cream, brioches** (1)** and hot chocolate. Dying of shame for all the attentions, Oswald happily thanked for the rich breakfast, eating it eagerly before the sweet look of the housekeeper... Once it was over, he asked Mrs. Tweed if Ortensia was in classes today to go talk with her (not caring if he caused a problem with that: He had to ... He had to see her.) ...The old woman was washing the cups when she turned the rabbit and winked at him in complicity:

"Behind the pumpkin patch, where the weeping willow is… _There_ you will see her." And with that said, she left the kitchen, leaving him alone.

Oswald made sure that there was no one (Mr. Whiskers and his son) around, so he went quickly to the pumpkin patch, his heart beating _absurdly_, like if he had a bird caught in his ribs... Finally, under the branches of the weeping willow, he spotted the figure of Ortensia. The wind stirred her lilac dress that, now he notices it totally, it suited her very well.

She felt him before he could say something, getting up and running towards him, still wringing her hands... Oswald wanted to say something, but he felt as if the words were crowding into his brain, without finishing deciding which one would come out first.

"...I _want_ to give you something else before you go."

"Ortensia, you've given me too many things and you've done _too_ much for me," Oswald murmured sheepishly, finally being able to articulate something. "...I _couldn't_ accept anything else, I..." He suddenly fell silent when he saw the female black cat with insert a hand inside her bodice, making him blushing furiously "W-what are you doing?"

"...I want to give you this" And from her hand was a small elongated silver medallion with a carved cross, hanging from a long silver chain. "It's a Saint Benedict **(2)** medallion. My mother gave it to me before she died saying that it would always protect me from dark beings... Now I see that you need it _more_ than I do."

Oswald was impressed, more than he had been in the past few days with how caring and diligent Ortensia and Mrs. Tweed had been with him regarding everything. He looked at the small medallion with the cross... Years ago, a jewel like that in his hands would have fed him and his friends for a whole week... now, he didn't know what to say or even think... And then he hardly noticed the soft hands of the black kitten sliding down his neck and closing the silver chain's clasp, with the medallion now hanging and hidden under his white shirt. Stunned, the black rabbit took it between his fingers, feeling the carved Cross in it and then looked at her, again not knowing what to say.

"I want you to take it with you wherever Mr. Darkwing takes you, as a way for you to remember me... And also as a reminder that it doesn't matter that you go where only God will know, you will always have a home to return to... And people who are waiting for you."

"Ortensia_... I..."_

"I-I would also like, when you decide to return, to give me back the medallion, as a way of knowing that you are alive and that I will see you again..." Ortensia stuttered hurriedly, feeling her cheeks burn. "And I'll write letters to you too... Will you write to me too, Ozzie?"

"I... well, of course." Oswald murmured softly, mentally cursing himself for not being able to say anything more, for not letting her know how much, how much he would miss her, how long it would take to see her smile again, to feel the softness of her hands once more... He practically wished that time would stop so that he could capture the image of Ortensia under the weeping willow and have it embedded in his retina for the following possible years... At that, a scream brought him out of his reverie.

_"Ortensia, come here right now!"_

"I must go," Ortensia said quickly, approaching the rabbit and clasping her hands in his, feeling warm and soft compared to his... "_May_ God and the Virgin _keep_ you, Oswald van Helsing."

And without warning, Ortensia brushed her lips lightly against Oswald's, making him feel that hot steam would come out from of his ears at any moment... However, he didn't move away. It was the most _beautiful_ thing that had ever happened to him and he would surely treasure it with his life. And when he wanted to savor her again, she had already retired, with a pretty pink brush on her pale cheeks, combined with a shy smile.

…He would never forget that moment.

* * *

Oswald was returning from the bar where he had chatted with Felix and Zenox, eating delicacies and emptying several mugs of beer, even outside the place, saying goodbye to his friends and promising that he would write to them as often as possible to let them know that he would be fine and making them to know his findings... He arrived at Ortensia's house when it was more than midnight, waiting for his backpack with his things on the porch as if it was an eviction. He entered as quietly as he put it, he felt his head spinning... However, when he entered the room, everything was silent. They were all asleep. A sense of unreality washed over him, a feeling that the drunkenness wasn't drowning at all: This was happening, he was going to be far from here. Feeling a lump in his throat, Oswald tiptoed to the rooms of Ortensia and Mrs. Tweed, watching them sleep... In both there were expressions of calm and yet both had worried about him...

"…If I can become a monster hunter, it will be to help the people who matter most to me. My friends ... and you two. I'll be back." he thought, clinging to the saint's chain on his neck with the fervor of a rosary.

He couldn't sleep, it was impossible. He looked at the grandfather clock every so often, slowly marking the hours of the morning... He knew he should sleep, he had to regain strength for what was coming... But he couldn't.

* * *

Several miles north, even late at night, Emily DeClaire kept the sheet music for the piano, where she had been practicing her lesson. Her fingers felt stiff and her mind was blank, although not so much because of the harsh practices at the Conservatory, which sometimes took more than four hours, more for her than it was her first presentation ... But also because of how much it was she was trying...

…For him. For the one who had cheered her heart after the emptiness she had had after separating from those wonderful three children, after leaving home... She hoped that everything would go well. She was hoping that maybe if he came to her presentation in a week... Maybe...

* * *

At about four in the morning, a drizzle began to fall in the town, blurring everything around. It was freezing cold, despite putting on his coat over a new shirt. The soles of his new boots were dirty and had left stains of mud all the way to where he was now... Kneeling in front of an image of the Holy Virgin with the child Jesus, in the first chapel he had found open at that hour.

For half an hour, the rabbit had been praying, emptying his soul, exposing his fears and expressing his doubts. He had lit some incense with the help of the silver lighter that Zenox gave him and had deposited at the feet of the image a large sack of coins, all the vampire's reward, as an offering to God and the Holy Mother, asking for their protection, entrusting himself to them and vowing to return, it didn't matter how. He had promised it to his friends, he had promised it to Ortensia.

It was still raining when Oswald left the chapel, now only carrying his backpack on his shoulder, feeling equally terrified, but at the same time with a renewed feeling in his soul. He walked resolutely toward the entrance to the town, feeling the heels of his boots sink into the mud. Each step felt like lead… But still he kept going, feeling the dewdrops penetrate his fur.

At the gates of the city, alone with two mules kicking on the muddy ground, Darkwing Duck was waiting for his apprentice to leave. He took out his compass and marked the way forward... And then he opened the secret little window of the artifact, looking at what was inside, closing his eyes under the mask with sadness and pain.

"…I just hope this _works_."

**_END OF SEASON ONE._**

**_TBC_**

**Author's Note.**

**(1)** The Saint Benedict medal (From Saint Benedict of Nursia, patron of Europe and patriarch of western monasticism.) is a Christian sacramental medal, one of the oldest ones in Christendom, and those who wear it believe that it has power against evil. The medallion is one that most serve in spiritual combats against the devil, which is why it is usually used in exorcisms.

**(2)** Brioche is a French origin sweet bread, with a light and fluffy texture, which can be prepared in many different ways.


	14. Great Guns

**Warning: Very graphic scene of a child's death.**

**XIV**

**Great Guns**

The forest had a unique, particular smell. And in addition to everything, enhanced. It was nothing compared to the smells he had gotten used to in the town, from the acrid smoke from the factories or turds and other things decomposing in many crowded alleys. Even the smell from stoves was gone... It was strange, and although it could be said that he was breathing _fresh air_ for the first time in his fifteen years of life, Oswald felt that he wouldn't get used to it completely. He couldn't avoid expressing it aloud to his enigmatic and eccentric master, who looked at him from his mule with a hint of mockery, but also comprehension in his eyes:

"It won't take long for you to feel and hear it as something natural, it will even become part of you, kiddo."

And yes, he had added "hear it", because in addition to the smell, the sounds were also enhanced at a frequency never before experienced: There were no longer screams of people from the streets or markets, but screams of birds and other invisible creatures that inhabited the trees, which spread out in a green canopy above their heads where the first rays of the sun filtered when the slight storm had passed; Although the calm was much greater there, the black rabbit couldn't help but feel that sense of 'stillness' _piercing_ his sensitive ears.

Several hours ago (or so it seemed to Oswald) they had left the limits of Sighiosara and entered the winding and unpaved roads, so full of rocks and uneven spots that they made Oswald slide forward from his mule several times, making him hold onto the mane out of sheer panic, so that his mule would prance in irritation_. "Keep it up and he's going to kick you out."_ Darkwing had warned him with a smirk. When Oswald had gained enough confidence to know how to hold on steady without fear, he was finally able to look around: He had seen the forest trees in the distance before, from the orphanage tower of course, but he _never_ thought it would be so huge and _endless_! There were only trees, shrubs, trunks, moss and plants so varied that he thought about taking out the "grimoire" of Ortensia to try to guide himself a little... But he also noticed that they weren't moving in one direction, but Darkwing was making them turn left to evade a rock, then right to jump a fallen log; Oswald felt a strange stiffness in his stomach... And no, it wasn't from hunger... yet.

"Mister Darkwing... you _know_ where we're going, right?" Oswald murmured after several minutes of silence where only the hooves of the mules could be heard moving forward. The masked mallard looked at him again… Oh, that smug gaze again.

"Of course, kiddo. Hunters, as well as travelers, sailors and messengers must know how to orient themselves. There're many ways to do it: The experience, the sky itself, the elements of the earth... Or something like this." he added taking out a round silver object that looked like one of those pocket watches that Oswald had seen Emily or Mr. Whiskers and other people with money… But when he opened the lid, there were no numbers, only four letters, and a red and black pointer that was swinging between the letters N and E. Oswald blinked without understanding. "...I don't know _how_ well educated you are, Oswald, but I won't lose saliva explaining the whole thing: This is a compass, it guides us the way to the north, which is where we are going."

"How do you make the red pointer move by itself, if there's not steam coming out of it?" Oswald asked curiously. Darkwing smiled.

"...To make the story simple for you, there are forces on earth that are invisible but guide us more precisely than stars or fatuous fires" The mallard explained with simplicity... Making Oswald look even more confused. Darkwing chuckled. "You'll understand eventually, kiddo. I'll be that compass for you: It's just a matter of _following_ me. And **_obey_** me... Or you will end up losing entirely."

Oswald frowned: At those moments Darkwing sounded identical to his former employers who had imposed on him _fantastic_ jobs such as stacking horse shit in wheelbarrows or cleaning sooty roofs…

After a long while, Darkwing raised a hand to make the rabbit to pull the reins of his mule, stopping at a kind of wide clearing where there was a small water eye; Oswald jumped down from the mule to drink from there eagerly using his hands as a bowl… Then he heard a clear throat behind him. "Hey, if you wanted water, I have a canteen, but if you want to soak up the _wild nature_ from _now_..." Oswald sat up and looked at his master somewhat embarrassed. Darkwing was sitting on a log behind him, handing him a curious canteen made by an _entire_ cow paw with hoof (1). The rabbit took it with wide eyes. "Oh, it's a trinket I got on a trip to the Americas. When you travel a lot like me, you end up like a magpie accumulating things."

"I guess I'll end up the same, maybe," Oswald muttered, sitting down as well, noting that it wasn't water, but coffee, and no sugar. He grimaced. "So... when will the training start?" He asked as he saw that the duck was rummaging through the saddlebags of his mule... pulling out a kind of iron shovel.

"_Right now_, Oswald." Darkwing replied, handing him the shovel. It was big and heavy so Oswald had to place it on the ground. The rabbit stared at him for a moment and then at his master, _believing_ that the first lesson would be to defend himself and fight with this object in the absence of pistols or knives... But the mallard's sardonic smile seemed to say something _else_.

"Eh, what should I _do_ with this, Mister Darkwing?"

"...You're going to start _digging_."

* * *

At first Oswald had thought it was a joke, but his master pointed out where he had to start. The rabbit after hesitating a few seconds, took the shovel and began to dig. He soon began to think that it was some exercise to strengthen his arms and endurance, since being a rabbit it was obvious that he'd be underestimated due to his size. He kept pulling dirt and small rocks out of the hole, noting that the sun was already right above him, showing that was noon. He looked at the white duck for any sign that he could stop... But nothing; Sighing and feeling sweat trickle down his fur, Oswald shoved his shovel into the ground, realizing how deep he was from the surface, digging down and around, leaving a gap big enough for him to lie down on. Oswald leaned against the shovel for a moment, breathing heavily; His arms were numb and his fingers were irritated at the constant friction of the iron stick, as well as a hunger and thirst, more when the sun was right above him. He let out a tired snort.

"What's wrong? This is just warm up, kiddo." Darkwing interjected with a raised eyebrow, inspecting the hole. "Come on, just a little more and you can take a rest."

"Just a little more? If I continue like this I'll find a treasure or a civilization of giant moles," Oswald muttered, resuming his task, feeling his muscles howling in pain. There was no doubt that the next day he couldn't even move. He looked up after spending several minutes at the job. "To all this, what is this exercise due to? It's to strengthen me or make me more resistant?" the rabbit asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead ... The expression of the masked mallard darkened a little.

"Well, yes, I'm looking for you to support more than you normally can, kiddo... But basically I made you to dig your own grave."

"MY WHAT?!" Oswald shouted in a tone so loud that it made some birds that were nearby fly out of there. Young Van Helsing dropped the shovel, feeling a horrible tremor and frightening cold run through his body from ear to foot in seconds... No, no, he heard wrong, Darkwing just made a bad joke ... But when raising the head, he saw the frozen eyes of the duck holding a kind of cross grossly made with sticks, as if he was going to place it in front of the hole. An awful chill seized the rabbit, who, on the verge of starting to scream, began to climb the hole, noticing that it was slipping backwards; almost maddened, Oswald was desperately trying to get out of the hole he had made, screaming like crazy that someone please help him... Darkwing chuckled.

"Suppose there is no one to help you now, Oswald. What would you do then? Would you accept death?"

"You _want_ me to beg, you ol' _crackpot_!" Oswald screamed, shaking himself out of that trap. Darkwing clicked his tongue and sighed.

"...So much fire inside should be used to stand out, not to burn yourself... Take my hand, insolent boy," Darkwing interjected, reaching down. Oswald stopped kicking on the ground to try to climb and looked at him suspiciously. "Come on: It's time for lunch." In the end Oswald grabbed his hand and allowed himself to be propelled up, meeting the scowling expression of the duck. "...By the way, be careful to whom you say old, boy: I'm not a parched mummy yet."

After a while and with a somewhat calm mood, although Oswald was still nervous, the hunter duck calmly explained the 'exercise': Being a hunter, the rabbit had to experience death constantly, by killing and about to be killed, either by monsters, by mortals or by an ironic trick of life itself... "The point is that death becomes an ol' friend that we'll be avoiding and at the same time seeing until your time is up," Darkwing said, breaking the loaf of rye bread he had, giving half to Oswald, who chewed it silently and eagerly. "...So that will always be present in your life, for what is best is to be prepared for her, living every moment ... You should already know it since you killed that vampire."

"...I think I knew it from before that, since I almost died of an infection in my ear," Oswald finally murmured as he finished eating and pointed to his silver earring. He stared at the lines of concern that showed his master's mask, clear signs of his mature years "...I imagine you've experienced that so much that you're no longer surprised, right?"

Darkwing was silent for a moment. Then he barked a dry laugh. "Not at all: Even if I'd play a duel of thumbs with death, I won't keep my cool, kiddo."

After finishing eating and allowing Oswald to regain some strength, Darkwing ordered to continue. Oswald followed him silently, deep in thought... Towards his friends he had left behind.

The afternoon was fast moving and young Van Helsing couldn't help but start to worry. The forest still seemed endless. He still had the image of that wooden cross fresh in his mind, which made him shudder horribly... Even though he had understood the intention of it, his old mistrust of the white mallard returned with force: What if this was all about a trick to kill him or do something abominable to him? What evidence did he really have that this guy was a former friend of his family? Yes, he had said his parents' names and known of his strange mark, but the duck may well have read it from somewhere... It was in those moments that Oswald regretted not even bringing a dagger with him. As a former street dweller and reformed thief, it was almost embarrassing.

* * *

Darkwing tightened the bowstring toward something in the foliage that Oswald couldn't see. What was he supposed to be aiming at? The rabbit, who was holding the reins of both mules, was already going to ask what was going to happen, when the mallard released the rope, making the arrow (which had something small tied to it) flew towards a tree, making an abnormal sound that made the rabbit almost lose control of the mounts, seeing that small figures fluttered from among the high branches; With incredible speed, Darkwing pulled another arrow from the quiver and, aiming at the winged figure, shot it down with an accurate shot. He went looking for it: A crow. "He fell on a berry bush, so we may have had double luck." Darkwing said, pointing to the bush. "You could try to see if it's edible."

Oswald advanced slowly, frowning. "And how are I supposed to know...? Oh!" He exclaimed suddenly, turning to his bag, anxiously rummaging through to find Ortensia's little book, leafing through something remotely like it... "It says here that blackberries are safe to eat." At seen Darkwing's slight interest, the rabbit clarified: "…Miss Ortensia studies plants and gave me this book about plants." The duck nodded, smirking.

"I came to have grimoires in my youth, but I ended up learning it by heart. I guess in the end you will too."

After an improvised dinner of roasted crow and berries, the sun was about to set. Oswald looked around, wondering if they're going to rest or move on… But then he saw Darkwing tie the mules to a log and then start climbing the same tree, reaching a thick branch and then settling against the trunk, pulling out a rope from his jacket to tie his feet to the branch... Then he looked down to where Oswald was still. "…What are you waiting for? That a beast devours you down there?"

"Oh, yeah, of course!" the rabbit exclaimed, and began to climb somewhat awkwardly, still feeling the exhaustion of his limbs and muscles... Upon reaching his master's spot, he settled at the opposite end of the trunk, receiving a piece of rope to tie himself. There was a silence that he wanted to break... But Darkwing's snoring began to be heard, so he fell silent, looking at the sky, already beginning to fill with stars. The sounds of the forest became more and more intense, the rabbit snuggled better in his jacket, trying to fall asleep. It didn't take long, always thinking of Felix, Zenox, and Ortensia.

* * *

The journey to the next town took almost five whole days. Five days when, at the break of dawn, for two hours, Oswald had to dig his own grave.

The weariness of his body was evident, reaching the point that he almost collapsed on the shovel... And then he resumed after hearing Darkwing say out loud that he'll to bury him if he fell asleep. Always ending with almost torn muscles. Everything went hand in hand with basic survival techniques: No one survives more than three minutes without air, no one survives more than three days without water, and no one survives more than three weeks without food, and, above all, the importance of salt.

"Our Lord referred to the _'salt of the world'_. So cheap and so vital. It's not only a method of protection against monsters and demons, but also to keep us alive. If you don't have a bag of salt with you, where do you get it? From sea water, from a handful of land... And animals' blood.

"But, Mister Darkwing ... _Aren't_ we fighting precisely dark beings that feed on blood?"

"...What differentiates _us_ from _them_, Oswald, is that the hunter is responsible for using the prey without waste... Vampires and other creatures of darkness only use the blood of their _victims_ (victims, _no_ preys) and leave the rest lying as garbage. Don't ever forget it, kiddo."

At almost dusk on the fifth day, Oswald had already read much of Ortensia's notebook, paying attention to each plant or fungus that resembled those in the illustrations and descriptions... Although more than once he got it wrong and ate some awful mushroom, to the pain of his stomach, because Darkwing refused to tell him if it was good or not: "You'll learn on your own. I'll only intervene if the nonsense of eating a poisonous one occurs to you.". It was only a matter of time before he could distinguish them without going through another hellish indigestion.

…They had finally reached a small hill where, to Oswald's delight, the pointy rooftops and wisps of smoke could be seen in the distance. From there you could see the people who entered and left the double doors that guarded the city… As they descended the hill and walked along a path, they saw a wooden sign: **"WELCOME TO SATU MARE".** Excited, Oswald looked askance at his master, who smiled.

"Alright, kiddo, after you."

* * *

From what could be seen around him, the town was relatively large, slightly larger than Sighiosara, with cobbled streets. Oswald noted that people stared at them as they passed... Or rather at the eccentric appearance of the mallard. But he was soon distracted by the smells coming from various street food stalls, making his stomach rumble. "Eating berries, mushrooms and squirrels was fine, but I like some sausages," Oswald muttered, sniffing... But then he heard a clearing throat sound, making him wince: Okay, his master would say no...

"If you haven't worn out the coin bag I gave you earlier, then you can treat yourself. Nor should you abuse, those damn usurers sell you expensive..."

"Of course not, sir," Oswald murmured, remembering that he had given almost all of that bag to Felix and Zenox... And all the vampire's reward as an offering to the Virgin, so he only carried a small bag of coins with him in his saddlebags. Assuming the white mallard would give him a good sermon if he knew that (and it was evident that he'll know), the rabbit hurried to a stall, where an old woman offered dried meat. After haggling a bit, Oswald returned to the lamppost where Darkwing would be waiting for him..._ or wouldn't?_

Nervously, Oswald turned everywhere with the piece of dried meat hanging in his mouth: The duck had simply vanished with his mule... And he had only separated from him for a few seconds! Had the hunter left him like that, would it be some kind of surprise test? He had to refrain from attracting the attention of a nearby police officer. He walked a few meters forward, pulling hard on his mule's rein, passing several houses and workshops, at that time all closed; Now he felt a knot of panic in his stomach... Until his ears caught a faint hissing sound coming from behind him... And at that moment there were quite a few walking down that sidewalk. He listened to it again and decided to follow it. After being guided by the sound despite the sounds of the passing carriages that got him a bit confused, Oswald spotted a purple blur in front of a kind of brick building. He started to run, hoping it was the duck... And indeed, he was: With arms crossed and moving a webbed foot with impatience.

"... At a good time, you arrive, why wasn't it so difficult to guide you by the sound? Always take advantage of your advantages, kiddo." Darkwing said when he saw Oswald snort." They also make food here, since you didn't want to wait."

"This is a...?" Oswald managed to articulate, but the mallard had already entered, so the rabbit followed after unhooking his saddlebags from the mule in the courtyard next to the building. It was just like Tapper's: The dining room full of people, the multiple floors; He followed Darkwing to a secluded table, who had already sat down and had removed his hat, revealing a small feathery crest and prominent wrinkles on his forehead. "Shall we stay here, sir?"

"If you have no objection, yes. For the moment. I want to take advantage that we are in a big city to get something vital for your education, kiddo."

"Really? What is it?" Oswald asked anxiously. At that moment someone served them two glasses of liquor. Darkwing sipped hers to say:

_"Great guns."_

* * *

Oswald certainly missed sleeping on a mattress after sleeping in trees or on a pile of leaves, although he had the impression that this would eventually become a luxury, just as it was in his homeless days. His master had rented a room with several loungers, so they would have to sleep with more people there... At that time there was no one but them, so Darkwing unceremoniously gave him a knife. Oswald stared at him.

"From now on, you're going to have a habit of sleeping with a weapon under your pillow. Although you must imagine it, one is safer in the forest than in a building full of people who can stab you for free."

Oswald wanted to ask him more, but at that moment another tenant entered, so the rabbit rushed to his bed, sliding the knife under the pillow, just in front of his fingers. Soon the lights went out, plunging into darkness and the snoring sounds around.

* * *

Oswald woke up suddenly at the feel the sun on his face. When he got up from the cot and noticed that the knife was still there, he turned around and (of course) Darkwing wasn't there, so he didn't disturb. He got dressed, gathered up his saddlebags and went down to the bar-dining room, where luckily they were still serving breakfast. He sat at the bar and ordered sweetened coffee and a biscuit, asking about the adult duck with huge hat that had arrived with last night. The bartender, removing the empty plate, gave him an eloquent look.

"Mister Darkwing left before dawn. He wanted me to tell you that when you finally wake up, you'd go look for him in the main church that is crossing the square, going down the street."

"Thanks for that," Oswald replied, giving him two gold coins, one for food and the other to keep the mules and he went outside. Although he knew he would have to ask for directions and could go faster on the mule, he decided to enjoy the walk, looking around the picturesque little houses, the people walking around, wondering what to expect when they arrived at the Church.

After asking for directions and wandering the path a bit, the rabbit found himself in front of a relatively large cathedral, beautifully decorated from the outside with statues of saints and colorful stained-glass windows shining in the sun. Entering and looking around, still enchanted by the beautiful stained glass windows and the illuminated altar, Oswald saw Darkwing at the end of a corridor, talking to a kind of priest in dark and elegant clothes. The duck noticed him and motioned for him to approach them.

"Oh, I suppose you are the young apprentice of Darkwing Duck, blessings to you this day," the priest greeted him softly, looking at the rabbit. "I'm the Great Brother Inquisitor of Satu Mare."

"I was _waiting_ for you, kiddo. Today we're going to start the real training." Darkwing said, crossing his arms. "I was just finishing explaining to the Brother Inquisitor about this little lesson."

"And I understand your point, _Maese_ Darkwing **(2)**, it could even be used so that future aspirants to this profession can soak up the... _Situation_. It seems to me that it can be very _fruitful_ for both factions in the fight against the dark beings."

Darkwing nodded, though the rabbit noticed a strange glint in his eyes. "Come with me, Oswald. I'll _show_ you."

Oswald said goodbye to the tall cleric and trotted behind the mallard, who had stridden off toward the corridor exit. Oswald took a moment to delight in the beautiful interior garden, but his master was walking away to one of the cathedral's side buildings. Upon entering, he noted that it appeared to be an underground corridor, barely lit by gas lamps. Feeling strangely tense, Oswald followed Darkwing to the end of that corridor, reaching a closed wooden door. The duck opened it and stood aside so that the rabbit could enter first... And what he saw made him livid:

It was a relatively large but unfurnished room where the sun filtered through stone bars in the ceiling. In the background, behind some thick bars like those of a prison, was curled up a very small boy, perhaps less than five years old, with pale blond hair and blue eyes, who was curled up and trembling against a corner, as if he was a scared puppy. Oswald took a few steps forward, stupefied: He knew what the Inquisition was, the people who burned Fanny for being contaminated... but he never believed that he saw such a small child in a place like this, _like_ a trapped bird.

He turned abruptly to see Darkwing, who was standing by the door, a grim expression on his face. "He was bitten by a vampire. And he also made him drink his blood. There is _nothing_ that can be done."

Oswald looked askance at the little boy, who had gotten a little closer to them, still clinging to some rags that seemed to be used as sheets: On the pale neck, these distinctive red fang marks were clearly noticeable, like bloody scabs of dried blood... He refocused on his master. "This... _this is_..."

"This is your _real_ _training_, Oswald," Darkwing said in a harsh tone. "You'll _learn_ in a very precise way about the main dark being that we fight. According to the Brother Inquisitor, this little one was bitten by a relatively weak vampire who, although he was eliminated, managed to kill his family and contaminate him ... So, he'll become one of them." He paused. "...The clergy had planned to burn him in a few days, but I proposed that it would be more _profitable_ to use it as _'teaching material'_, don't you think?"

Oswald didn't answer immediately, but looked at the boy again. "What's his name?"

Apparently Darkwing hesitated, because he also took time to answer: "His name is Hans **(*)**"

"I understand... Hey, hello Hans," Oswald said quietly, moving closer to the bars, smiling faintly at the boy, who crawled almost like a puppy, looking at him curiously. "I'm Oswald, it's a pleasure to meet..." But then the boy suddenly moved to the other corner of the cell, pouncing on something... As he focused better on that gloom, Oswald noticed that it was a mouse writhing between the little fingers of the boy... Who immediately opened his mouth and, in a _horrible_ sound of breaking, bit off the mouse's head. Oswald leaned back, covering his mouth to avoid vomiting what he had just had for breakfast, a foul smell of blood came suddenly... "Jesus Christ!" He moaned in horror, closing his eyes.

"The transformation usually takes several days, and culminates with the appearance of the fangs and complete absence of humanity," Darkwing said in a calm tone, now standing next to Oswald, as if explaining that 1 + 1 is 2. "According to the report, Hans was bitten three days ago, so he has already developed fear of certain objects..." He reached into his purple jacket and took out a necklace adorned with a silver cross, before which Hans, with a mouth full of blood, started making cat-like noises and snorts, backing up to the wall, still shaking and gasping. "...They no longer _recognize_ or _stand_ God."

* * *

In this way Oswald realized what that training consisted of: witnessing in the front row the agonizing and tragic transformation of a child into a vampire, with all the highly gruesome details. Darkwing certainly hadn't forbidden him to talk to the boy _("Although I doubt he'll answer you, kiddo."_), but he warned him to not feed Hans or even try to open the gate in some way... And the mallard was forthright and explicit with this: _"If he gets out of that cage and gets to bite or even scratch you, I'll shot your head to end your misery and failure."_

Oswald could only nod as he watched, with a growing lump in his throat, the progressive pallor of Hans's skin, not to mention the black circles around his eyes, which glowed feverish every time he saw a mouse or cockroach in the cell... Or when he looked at Oswald.

Two more days passed.

Oswald and Darkwing spent most of the day in the cathedral, observing Hans's slow degeneration, only leaving when the Brother Inquisitor called them for eating or when it was time for mass. Oswald was trembling on the wooden bench as he knelt down to pray, unable to ignore the fact that, across the garden, in that underground corridor, there was a little boy suffering from the horrible transformation… As the priests around chanted psalms and praise with energy and rejoicing. A retching wrapped him as he remembered those moments sitting on one of the small benches in the room, trying to listen Darkwing's explanations about the nature of vampires.

"They fear holy water and cannot cross running water, because it will burn them." And immediately afterwards, the mallard took out a glass vial and threw a few drops at the boy, who screeched in pain, showing how on his pale skin like paper they suddenly appeared red spots, like red hives.

Oswald couldn't help but feel worse, especially when, around the third night there, the little boy began to sob and moan, crying to his mother, spinning around in his cell in despair… _Could_ it be that way Fanny came to feel while she was waiting for the execution, uselessly crying out for her parents and Ortensia...?

"... I'm... I'm... thirsty..."

"D-do you want water?" Oswald murmured, looking around: He was alone, since Darkwing had retired to talk about something with the clerics of the Inquisition... He hesitated; He wasn't supposed to feed him anything, but… The boy's cries and pleas were impossible to ignore… Oswald ended up running back to the garden, where he had seen a small fountain: If the vampires are burned with holy water, perhaps Hans could drink regular water... With the wooden bowl in his hand to drink and eat in that place _("In penitent's way"_ Darkwing once said with irony), he collected some water and quickly returned to the cell, slowly approaching... "_Here_, Hans, drink this." Oswald whispered in a gentle tone as best he could, carefully setting the bowl on the floor. The boy approached, sniffing the water like a dog... "It's okay, it's normal water, you _can_ drink it..." he continued forcing a smile, breathing relieved to see Hans pounced on the bowl and drank it in great gulps...

...And three seconds later, Oswald recoiled in horror to the point that he fell from his back: Hans was vomiting blood in an abnormal amount, then began to writhe on the ground, between heartbreaking screams and convulsions...

" ...You _shouldn't_ have given him water. Vampires don't drink water. They drink blood."

Oswald turned slowly, almost trembling: Darkwing was at the door, piercing him to the soul with his icy blue eyes. Next to him was the Brother Inquisitor, looking apprehensively at Hans, who was still writhing... The mallard was looking at the rabbit, as if he was expecting his excuses: _'And well...?'_ "We can't do this!" Oswald exclaimed, flushing red and breathing hard. "I _know_ vampires are horrible, _I know_, one _almost_ kills me, but...! Is there… is there no way to…?!

"A way to _stop_ this transformation? We haven't _even_ found a cure for rabies yet **(3)**" Darkwing snapped at him. "If _there's_ a vaccine against vampires, I'd _really_ like you to tell me _now_, Oswald."

Oswald couldn't say anything... But he screamed when a hand started to pull him from behind his shirt, dragging him back. "Aaaah, let me, let me go...!" He yelled, managing to let go by getting rid of the open vest he was wearing... Oswald backed away scared, watching Hans tear his vest with rage, opening his mouth to bite it... Revealing his two sharp fangs.

"_Vade Retro Satan_, it's time!" the Brother Inquisitor exclaimed, and then began to say loudly the Anointing of the Sick **(4)** to the maddened Hans, who was moving around like a mad dog trying to escape... Then Oswald, even on the ground, felt that someone was putting something on his hands: It was Darkwing giving him a revolver.

"Theoretical lesson is _over_. It's time for _practice_. Aim and shoot, Oswald. To the head or to the heart. Thus he'll be incapacitated enough."

"_Enough?!"_ Oswald exclaimed, upset. "You're telling me to shoot a child...!"

"He's a _vampire_, Oswald. Stop the nonsense and _do it_."

Suddenly a noise was heard: It was Hans trying to get out... By moving the bars of his cell with his little fingers... And they began to creak. Darkwing yelled:

"DO IT, OSWALD! I AM YOUR TRAINER AND YOU HAVE TO OBEY!"

"IT WASN'T HIS FAULT BEING BITTEN AND YOU ASK ME TO KILL HIM!" Oswald yelled. "HAVE YOU EVER HAD CHILDREN TO FEEL WHAT YOU ASK ME?!"

Darkwing didn't answer, _seemingly_ unflappable... but his face went pale in seconds. A louder rustling was heard hinting that the bars had been broken... And the monster was going to leap towards the rabbit, fangs exposed... The Brother Inquisitor screamed... And a powerful shot was heard.

Blood splattered on the bare stone walls. It splattered on the floor and the vaulted ceiling... It splattered the frozen face of Oswald, who was looking ahead with glassy eyes, still holding the revolver... In front of him, huddled deep in the cell, was Hans, whose head had exploded into pieces, causing his brain and organs to spread like butter on the walls, leaving a flower of flesh and blood on the wall behind...

…Darkwing gasped, lowering the shotgun he had pulled out at the last second. Then he looked at his apprentice _"…Oswald." _The rabbit didn't move from his place, still trembling. "Oswald, I'm _talking_ to you. Answer me, kiddo."

_"No…"_

"We must call the brothers to burn this abomination..."

"Oswald, _dammit_, talk to me!"

Suddenly Oswald got up and dropped the weapon, running towards the door, passing the hunter and the cleric, who looked at him in astonishment. The rabbit ran out of the corridor, almost without seeing where he was going due to the blood and tears blurring his sight. He ignored the cries of those present at that moment in the cathedral... He must _leave_, he doesn't _belong_ to that _world_, he wants to _return_ home...

…_Home?_ _Which_ home? Oswald had friends, but he doesn't have a home, a house. That was lost long ago.

Now it only made sense to run until he got lost, since he _didn't_ longer _have_ the _compass_ with him.

**…**

Hiding on top of a loquat tree that overlooked a small lake on the outskirts, Oswald was huddled in one branch, watching the circles in the water every time he threw a fruit's seed when he finished eating it. He felt terrible, not _only_ for the carnage he had seen, but also for running away; it was obvious that Darkwing was very disappointed in him and now he really was going to disappear for real, and _not_ as a training... And then what? Oswald might well find a way to return to Sighiosara... But when he returns, other than to confront his friends... The townspeople _wouldn't_ leave him alone now, asking him to kill monsters for them. He was condemned from the beginning to this cursed existence by that last name... What if he'd start _somewhere_ _else_ with another name?

_"NO! STAY AWAY!"_

Oswald snapped back to reality at those screams. From the branch, Oswald could see clearly what it was: It was a young woman huddled in the ground against a tree a few meters from him, holding a small child that was crying loudly. Beside her was a basket full of flowers and mushrooms... And she was surrounded by two green humanoid creatures with large teeth, wearing only loincloths. Oswald looked around: In that area of the forest edge there seemed to be no one else, despite the woman's screams. The woman tried to throw a stone at the head of one of the monsters, only making him angrier, so he began to growl, pulling one of the woman's legs, who was screaming desperately trying to protect her baby…

...He broke a branch and climbed down from the tree, running as fast as he could towards them. He closed his eyes and stretched the branch forward, hearing a howl of pain.

The woman opened her eyes, noting in surprise how a young black rabbit, that had come out of nowhere, had used a sharp branch to attack the monster that was attacking her, managing to injure him in one eye, burying it deep in the eye socket, causing him to squeal and fall. The second monster reacted by using his stick to hit the rabbit across the face, knocking it out of action. The monster turned to the woman, still petrified on the ground...

"...I'm the terror that flaps in the night, I'm the unwanted guest who ruins the eggnog! I'm ... Darkwing Duck!"

And a powerful shot by a high powered weapon made the monster flew backwards in a shower of blood drops. The woman, huddled against the trunk to protect the baby from gunpowder and blood, stood up to get a better look around: A white duck in bizarre clothes was approaching them with a shotgun. Then she saw that the black rabbit from before was sitting up and clutching his sore head. "Oh, thank you, thank you very much!" The woman exclaimed between tears and spasms. "Thank you both!"

"Bah, goblins are no match for Darkwing Duck," the duck said with a arrogant gesture. "But it seems that my partner got a good fight, so I'll take him to fix that shock. Better go to a safe place, ma'am."

"Of course, thank you very much, Mr. rabbit, for your help." The woman murmured, holding on better to her baby and pick up the basket, making a small bow and then leaving. Darkwing smiled, shaking his head.

"Sometimes I forget that a tearful thank you is better than a rusty copper coin." He murmured, approaching Oswald and helping the wobbly rabbit to his feet. "Come on, kid. You and I need a good drink."

**…**

"_Ouch, ouch,"_ Oswald murmured, pressing the arnica pad to his temple with one hand as he raised the glass of whiskey with the other, trembling. "One of these days _I'll_ end with a shock that leaves me half stupid."

"Then _perhaps_ you should consider wearing a helmet then," Darkwing replied, shaking his drink and fishing a cherry from the bottom of his glass. They were both at the same table where they had eaten and drunk the first night they had arrived there. In front of them was a plate of smoked herrings that was getting cold. Oswald settled uncomfortably in his chair: It was time for the _explanations_, the _sermon_, the _farewell_... "I _don't_ intend to apologize for this 'training' method, since Hans was going to die anyway and sooner or later you'd see for yourself what these monsters do: They condemn you to a horrible death and they respect _no one_, not _even_ children." He continued in a low voice, narrowing his eyes behind the mask. "And so we _fight_ them. For helping others, for the country, for the money, for the adventure... _Whatever_. While these dark beings _exist_ to screw up our lives, there will be hunters like me... Or like your family, Oswald."

Darkwing took a kind of black leather book out of his jacket, and after rummaging around, he showed the rabbit a sheet of paper that seemed to have a fairly old wax seal: A shield with an H superimposed, and behind that, a kind of cross-sword crushing a skull that had two huge _fangs_... With glassy eyes, Oswald touched the seal. "This _is_..."

"It's a letter your grandfather gave me years ago; it has the Van Helsing wax seal on it. _Unfortunately_, I don't have a larger drawing on hand, but..."

"Is this the handwriting of my grandfather, Grandfather Abraham?" Oswald murmured, sliding his hand across the piece of yellowed parchment. "I... _thank_ you for showing me this, master." He added. Darkwing lowered his eyelids.

"Today you showed that you _can_ get back up. And that, my boy, is _something_ that characterizes ol' Darkwing Duck... I think you can still keep up with me."

Oswald looked up. "It means that...?"

"A deal is a deal, kiddo." And without more ceremony, Darkwing slid the same revolver from before toward him. Oswald could see it better: In the gun's butt there was a small blade that could certainly be used to fight hand-to-hand. The rabbit looked at the duck. "Just as you don't forget the first kill or the first love, neither do you forget the first gun."

**...**

As Mrs. Tweed washed the dishes, Ortensia finished putting the freshly washed glasses on the sideboard when they heard a dry cough behind her. Turning, she saw her father's somewhat bored expression. "I don't understand why we have servants if you start doing their work."

Seeing the old woman flush with embarrassment, the female black cat replied: "I don't understand _why_ we have hands to store things then, father," she said with a shrug. J.P. Whiskers frowned: His daughter was lately taking a strangely defiant attitude, nothing according to how he had brought her up... It was undoubtedly the cause of that filthy rabbit... And those loathsome friends of his with whom she apparently speaks in the street. Snorting from a rheumatism he had, he took an orange from the bowl and began to peel it.

"Have you received any news from Queens College **(5)**, Ortensia?"

"Yes, father. Nana Tweed brought me the mail this morning... And it says that I was _admitted_."

"Of course you do, who would _deny_ something to old J.P. Whiskers, distant relative of the 11th Lord of Rutherford?" The old cat replied puffing up his chest proudly. "It's a great opportunity, girl: _Don't_ waste it, understand?"

"I _won't_, father," Ortensia murmured, bowing her head. While she should be glad that she was admitted to that prestigious academy because it was in London and that meant staying away from her father and brother for a year and a half and getting to know the British lands in the company of Mrs. Tweed... She was also somewhat concerned. What would become of Felix and Zenox? Could Oswald communicate with them... And with her? A massive blush washed over her as she remembered that kiss, making her smile slightly…

"The one who laughs alone _remembers_ the _mischief_," Mrs. Tweed said with a laughing tone, just after old Mr. Whiskers had left from the kitchen. Ortensia couldn't help but laugh.

She thought of writing them a letter as soon as she was alone.

**...**

As he drank from his lemonade with lemon, Zenox watched closely as Felix spoke to a dog in fancy clothes a few tables away, as if they had known each other from before. Was it one of his old employers? When they were done, the dog gave him a handshake and left, causing Felix to return to the bar table where they had been chatting earlier. "What did he want from you?" He asked to the cat. Felix sighed.

"I met that guy, Mr. Budd Flud, a long time ago when someone wanted to scam him... And apparently he wants me to participate in a business project with some merchandise." He smiled, taking a sip of lemonade. "He wants me to be his 'assistant.'"

"What will an assistant be? Anyone who has to do everything to the boss, including bringing the coffee?" Zenox wondered aloud, and then they both laughed.

**To be continued... **

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**(*) **Not Hans from _Frozen_, but Hans from _"Education for Death: The Making of a Nazi"_

**(1) **Drinking horns, called _Rhyton_, have existed since Prehistory. In this case, the decanter made with the leg of a cow or a goat, it's believed that they were created in the plains between Colombia and Venezuela since the time of the Colony.

**(2)** _Maese_: Expression for an expert or veteran person in his job.

**(3) **The rabies vaccine wasn't invented until four years later (in 1884), by Louis Pasteur.

**(4) **_Anointing of the Sick:_ Catholic prayer for people who are about to die.

**(5)** Queens College, founded in 1848, was created to train women in teaching. It was the first institution to offer higher academic education to women.


	15. The Gods' Forgemaster

**XV**

**The Gods' Forgemaster **

The rain was pouring down on a small, thatch-roofed, concrete-walled town they had stumbled upon reaching the edges of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, surrounded by thick forests and many swampy ponds. Oswald had smiled tired but satisfied when he saw the fishing rod he had made, although in a rudimentary way, he accomplished his task and brought out a fish of considerable size (Although Oswald had to enter in the muddy water for that) and cook it over a campfire accompanied by a homemade salad made with arugula and borage leaves, included with some garlic wedges that Darkwing brought in his saddlebags ("From now on, get used that all your meals are seasoned with garlic or a derivative so that, in case a vampire attacks you, you can stun it with your breath... And don't make that face, kiddo: that saved my ass with a vampire in Minsk once." he said roasting a piece and chewing it). They had spent days learning how to make ropes from plant fibers, as well as sharp spears made from branches. As more days passed, Oswald had already learned to know where the cardinal points were with the position of the sun, as well as to look for possible nearby cities by climbing trees, becoming easier for him.

Upon arriving at the village to sleep a bit in a room after paying a few silver coins, although the bed was actually a mat of reeds plaited on rags, Oswald had noticed with pleasant surprise some glass bottles filled with vegetable oil in the bottom of his bag, no doubt courtesy of Ortensia, which made it easier to take a shower with the freezing rainwater outside, rubbing himself with a piece of scouring pad to remove the smell of sweat and excavated earth, always smiling at the thought of her.

"Ah, this reminds me of the ablutions I had to do in a synagogue before destroying an uncontrolled Golem (1) by a rabbi's request." Darkwing was saying when he returned to the room where his disciple was, sitting on his respective mat, concentrating on the last lesson: How to clean a weapon, disassemble and reassemble it without errors. The rabbit looked up, seeing that the mallard, apart from his mask, was wearing only a linen towel, showing off his curly white feathers from the bath… As well as his exposed torso and arms, full of scratches and old wounds… Oswald looked away quickly, slightly embarrassed. Darkwing, noticing it, smirked: "They only get a little annoying when it's cold season. You'll find out soon."

"I imagine so, sir," Oswald murmured, running the rag with oil in his pistol, making sure every corner was clean... Although there was no bullet inside it... And according to Darkwing, there would be no bullet there for several weeks. "May I... may I ask why you gave me a weapon if I'm not going to use it?"

Darkwing, already sitting on the front mat and holding one of the branches he had gathered in the woods to start sharpening it with a knife, raised an eyebrow:

"I already told you, right? What if you run out of bullets in a fight? What would happen if your sword or dagger flew away from you with a claw?" Darkwing paused, giving him an eloquent look… Oswald said nothing, but he knew perfectly well that he was thinking the same thing: The fight in the mausoleum. "...It's in those moments where one must be recursive, pragmatic... bring out your most sylvan and primitive self, the one that used stones and spears, as well as the surroundings... And that is what we are going to do from tomorrow after dig your grave exercise. And we will take the opportunity to test something that you have as an advantage, boy.

Oswald blinked in confusion: "Really?" _What_ could it be?

_"Agility."_

* * *

Oswald advanced with the sharp lance and the stone-filled slings down a small hillside near the village, looking for wild boars or deer. He was alone now, for Darkwing had told him he would see him on the other side of the slope. He was looking around, trying to catch a glimpse of a sign in the bushes, until a rustle of dry leaves was heard behind him… Oswald raised his ears, standing still, holding one of the sharp sticks with trembling hands... _"It's just a deer... I can knock it down." _he thought to give himself courage; But then a low growl began to be heard, leaving the rabbit petrified. And then a shadow jumped from behind some bushes, revealing itself as a gigantic wolf, discovering his jaws full of sharp teeth, staring at him.

Oswald couldn't think: He ran as fast as he could, feeling how the wolf was on his heels, about to catch him... At the last second he stomped and jumped to the side, just at the moment when the wolf he had thrown himself to where he was seconds ago. In the fraction of a second, the black rabbit took the opportunity to throw the spear at hand, but the beast managed to dodge it, also turning the body to try to bite him. Oswald leaned back, trying to run to some tree where he could perch, noting that he still had the sling with stones. _"How… this this works? I remember David (2) making it look easy against the giant...!" _He turned around and began to spin the sling, hoping that it wouldn't fly away as it had the first time he tried to use it with a deer in a pond, releasing it the moment the wolf had jumped at him to bite him; The sling shot forward, circling the air until it hit the wolf in the head, wobbling him and then quickly walking away.

Oswald stood still, hoping that at some point he would return alone or with reinforcements to continue trying to hunt him... After a while, he was able to breathe easy. Forgetting to go for a deer or wild boar, the rabbit started running towards the other side of the hillside, where Darkwing would be waiting for him... Or _wouldn't_ he?

After almost half an hour going around trying to locate the white duck, even going to climb the tops of the trees to see if he was hidden somewhere... Without a trace. Worried, Oswald ran back to the village, realizing that the mallard was sitting next to some villagers chatting happily around a huge cauldron where something was boiling. Darkwing raised his head, motioning for him to come closer to them... Oswald, almost out of breath, said: "Master... did you reach the hillside as you said?"

"Of course, I went to do my part: Bring some mushrooms and roots that are delicious in stews and soups... I see you didn't bring anything, Oswald. Well, it will be pure vegetable soup today and not stew." Darkwing replied with a shrug, holding out a wooden bowl towards his student. Oswald started to tic in his eye.

"...I'm sorry I _didn't_ get the hunt, sir, a wolf stopped me," the rabbit said. The hunter raised his eyebrows.

"...And you're here, which means that you used your agility to get out of that situation, because the moment your bullets run out or you don't have something sharp to prick or cut... You only have your agility and ingenuity to escape," Darkwing declared with simplicity, approaching the cauldron and pouring himself a good portion of soup. Oswald stared at him, livid. "...Don't stand there, or you will run out of veggies."

Oswald sighed, also pouring himself a ration, trying to stay on top of his master's conversation with the locals, reaching to hear something about an old salt quarry that had been left in disuse, located less than a kilometer from there... Oswald imagined that he would have another surprise training, of which the rabbit wouldn't know anything until the moment of starting...

…Just as he knew almost _nothing_ about his master, which was even stranger:

Something Oswald knew about Darkwing Duck was that he _loved_ to talk, talk about his past successes, about his travels, about vampires and all kinds of disgusting monsters, as well as various survival techniques, how to guide himself in the forest, how to create a refuge, as the stars in the sky were called… But the rabbit didn't know anything about the duck, that is, nothing personal, when Oswald had told him what he remembered about his parents, his shitty childhood in that orphanage…

But when this he asked him in turn about something personal, the mallard always avoided the topic by starting to talk about something else, so Oswald still didn't know where he was born, where his relatives were in case they were still alive... how his face was like under the mask, or even what his real name was; The rabbit was sure that if he even try to get closer to Darkwing while he was sleeping to try to remove him the purple mask… He would end up with his throat sliced like an_ (no) _unfortunate bandit who had approached them a couple of nights before arriving at the town, when they both slept inside a cave on a hillside... Nope, he better avoids curiosity to keep his neck _intact_, thank you.

...All of that didn't help him feel more confident with the hunter duck... In fact, that only fueled the feeling that the white mallard was hiding much more from him than his training plans... Or about Oswald's parents.

...But he had _agreed_ to continue that game, hoping to get to the end. Oswald, as stubborn and proud as he was, was hell-bent on _doing_ it.

* * *

**_"...I'm going to be there for a long time, maybe a year or two, learning new things, getting to know new places. I'm excited about this, it's something I've wanted for a long time..."_**

Ortensia sighed as she settled better into the velvet seat of the carriage, watching the enchanting Danube landscape pass while she played cards or dominoes with Nanny Tweed and two more servants who accompanied them to the next "resting point" in Frankfurt to rest, resupply and change mounts to complete the long journey to Great Britain.

Finally, Ortensia had to go to Queens College to receive higher education for more than one year, maximum two. Although she would stay in the pension of one of her maternal aunts, it would certainly be an abrupt change for a fourteen-year-old girl to be so far from parental authority for a long time; Although the black cat couldn't be _happier_ for it:

It _wasn't_ the first time that she left her hometown, but it was the first time that she traveled without her father and brother, which was an immense relief... _Not_ only for Ortensia, but also for the servants; everyone remembered the boring stories and lessons from J.P. Whiskers or Homer's classist comments. Women could talk and laugh freely, tell jokes and play while eating... Everything would make the long journey more enjoyable, which would last several weeks if there's not setbacks.

J.P. Whiskers had established the rules so that she could go without problem: Ortensia had to obey her aunt in everything, not cause problems for the teachers, not waste the money that would come in remittances every three months for her stay, tuition and supplies that she would need for her classes (Heh, it was _obvious_ that _she'll_ take Botany and Chemistry to expand her knowledge), as well as having at _least_ one maid as a companion if she was going out with female friends to study or drink tea together... And _no boyfriends_, unless it was an aristocrat, _obviously_.

Ortensia and Mrs. Tweed agreed to everything, eager to go on this adventure together, tour the fields, meet the famous English fairs... Meet more girls like her... It was certainly a great opportunity and she would be a silly if she loses that.

**_"...Since you left, I've been talking to Felix and Zenox... Well, when we saw each other on the street when I'm coming from piano lessons, or when we met in church every Sunday. You are present at all their prayers... As well as mine. They have been very friendly with me, even though my father and brother call them "street rascals who would be able to steal my things" ...They told me they would be fine, that you gave them money so that they wouldn't have difficulties... I'm sure that you are safe in the care of God and the Virgin for such noble actions that you've done... And I believe it from my heart."_**

In the few moments where they could talk, Ortensia had told Felix and Zenox that she was leaving town for a while as well, but that he wanted to keep in touch with them as well as Oswald. The female black cat taught them how to put together and send letters, as well as go to the post office to ask if there was anything for them, whether it was from her in London or from Oswald in some _cruel_ or _inhospitable_ place on the continent.

...Oh, every time she thought about Oswald, or he was the topic of conversation (something that was very frequent during that trip), the young lady felt heat both on her cheeks and on her chest, accompanied by a silly smile. It had been a long time since she had admitted to Mrs. Tweed that she was in love, and she was the only one to whom she revealed the kiss under the weeping willow. The old housekeeper had laughed, pretending to be shocked: _"Oh, but how daring! It reminds my kiss with Amos Slave in the apple orchard 40 years ago!"_ she said, sighing nostalgically, between giggles from the servants and enthusiastic pleas from Ortensia to tell more, coming to imagine herself and Oswald in those scenarios... Something that could perhaps happen the moment the black rabbit returned... In a few years, something that didn't sound exactly hopeful: It was a long time, within which anything could happen...

...Still, she wanted to keep in touch, keep feeding that little seed they had planted together. Perhaps nurturing it with letters and prayers, a small sprout could emerge that she would take care of until (_"God grant!" _She thought) began to grow little by little... And although she certainly hoped that it would flourish at times like that kiss under the weeping willow or by sharing cucumber ice cream with the same spoon _("Mrs. Tweed, how daring!"_ they all said with a laugh) ...Well, time will tell.

**_"...I will be writing to you as much as I can, I hope you can do the same, you can tell me everything you think, what you feel about this new life that suddenly came to you, about your master, about the creatures they will face... _****_Please be careful, Ozzie ... "_**

She hoped to send it once they reached the beautiful German city, wondering what was going on not only with Oswald (and how brutal the training with Darkwing Duck would be), but also with his friends in Sighiosara... In these rime after the almost disaster by the lunatics in the sewers.

* * *

...In fact, things had changed since the horror was discovered under the foundations of the city, not to mention how from time to time, monsters used to roam the surrounding forest, taking travelers and merchants whom crossed their path.

...And now they weren't only stripped of their _only_ "hunter", realizing that he had left the town, having to defend themselves as best they could.

They had made a deep inspection in the sewers a few days later, noting that, apart from cultists having committed suicide with poison, almost all their objects had been destroyed, leaving books and objects charred... Therefore, they limited themselves to removing any type of remains, even if it were a torn piece of a banner, a wooden stick or even a piece of paper, placing them next to the corpses of the lunatics and the bones of the former victims and burning it all in a huge funeral pyre in the main square, then pouring gallons of holy water to clean the same ground used. Many townspeople were questioned, finding the typical witches, quickly condemning them to the stake or the guillotine, but with no clear relation to the strange cult of darkness and the abominations of the sewers... It was as if they had come from the exterior somehow.

...All of that left a horrendous feeling of fear and mistrust that was very reminiscent of the black legend of the American people of Salem **(3), **causing the guards to double on the streets and (obviously) in the most important residences, using the "advice" that the outsider hunter, Darkwing Duck, had passed on to them before disappearing with young Van Helsing: Salt and Holy water were essential to fight (or rather defend and survive) against a possible attack by monsters; so while they waited for the arrival of some hunters' guild that wanted to stay again, now everyone had glass vials filled with holy water on their necks or pockets (Parish priests and sacristans never had so much work to bless outside occasional pandemics), as well as a bag of salt tied around their belts... That was what Felix and Zenox wore when they left to go to their respective jobs: The black cat with Mr. Fludd in a junk shop and the orange cabbit in a restaurant near Tapper's as a waiter.

Zenox sighed as he wiped the tables with a rag soaked in rubbing alcohol to remove the fat from soup and meats. He had to prepare everything and then go take orders from diners for the rest of the day until the chimes were heard at dusk. It was hard work and he always came back to the hostel with his feet swollen, but at least the job was stable and he received a few extra coins due to his gentle and honest attitude... Nothing compared to the rogue Felix, he thought with a giggle.

The black cat enjoyed as Mr. Fludd's seller of cleaning supplies, using all kinds of tricks for people to buy, however useless or impractical it seemed _("This is the Liquidator, there is no other equal in the perfect market to kill even the bacteria from the Black Death!"_ he said aloud in the market place or in some crowded place.), bringing enough money to the hostel... Both had thought that perhaps it would be time to start saving to get a house own, perhaps having it ready for when Oswald returned... If he does.

... Now that he thought about it, would Oswald really come back? No, it wasn't that he didn't return because of some monster (Zenox always prayed that he was safe!) But that he perhaps doesn't want to stay in that town, precisely the town that threw him to the vampire, who despised him for so long... Emily had shown them in her Bible classes that one should love enemies, but... "_Ozzie will surely be seeing new places, maybe he'll get to where he was born, where his parents were... And if he stays there? "_ Zenox thought, squeezing the grease-filled cloth. _"After all, they're all gone: Miss Emily, Miss Ortensia... what if Felix ends up leaving for some job or something else...?"_

He ended his shift and walked down an alley that led to the main plaza, mostly because he wanted to go buy some cupcake or something sweet to eat before bed. He walked around the place, noting that there were several people who reminded him too much of Mr. Darkwing: Long patched or even threadbare coats, wide or top hats with strange glasses over them... And pistols, knives or even whips on their belts. They all looked intimidating, or at least rough and adventurous... He couldn't help but imagine Oswald looking like them... Would he ever see that?

* * *

Oswald worked hard, in many ways: _Not_ just digging twice his weight each morning, not just learning to differentiate between a percussion pistol from a flintlock pistol, a carbine, and a rifle, as well as knowing how to clean and disassemble them; (...Oswald realized that all that was an art: The way they were built from the barrel to the butt.), But also how to defend himself without any weapons... And the truth was that he still had a lot to do: One thing was the small quarrels with insults with the other tenants of Tapper's that ended whenever Mr. Tapper appeared... And it was another to fight with others, with anything at hand, either for survive or destroy.

...Oswald _always_ ended up with sore and bleeding knuckles from punching tree trunks and wooden fences, for several minutes a day, without rest, before starting to dig his grave (after that, he started using bandages on his knuckles) ... By late afternoon, he had bandages on his fists with plant extracts to reduce swelling (Blessed be Ortensia and her grimoire, he thought as he placed crushed poppy leaves on his wounds), feeling that he could hardly move his fingers to take the spoon or fork.

...And until now, when practicing some basic movements, Darkwing _would_ end up _cleaning the floor_ with Oswald. The rabbit was aware of its small size, how the mallard was a much larger and more experienced opponent. He dodged most of the punches and kicks that Darkwing threw at him (And Oswald was sure he was holding back, as he perfectly remembered how Darkwing broke the man's leg with a kick the first time), trying to at least give him a punch, ending almost always with a bruise on his arm, a violent pull on his ears or even a small kick on his legs that made him stumble backwards... At least he had already learned to roll when that happened, because he would have a pair of webbed feet trampling at him mercilessly.

"Knowing the weak points of your enemy are vital, because thanks to them you can gain precious seconds that can save your ass or even someone else."

And Oswald kept practicing, kept trying to hit him, kept trying to use his huge feet to jump into his master's throat or head to give some kick or blow... And then falling backwards due to a head-butt that made the rabbit see stars for a moment. Oswald didn't understand why they had these unarmed fights if their main strength was supposed to be pistols and knives... And the answer came a few days later when they left the border and entered Varna, Bulgaria.

Oswald was fascinated by the architecture of the place, not to mention that it was the first time he had seen anything other than a creek or ponds around Sighiosara, looking at the expanse of the Black Sea on either side of the harbor, as steamboats sail to the east, according to what he had understood, towards the lands of Turkey. He was about to ask his master if they would take a ship, since he had never seen one than in books' illustrations; Darkwing smiled_: "Don't worry, you will have the opportunity to meet the Great Blue Monster... And to love and hate it at the same time."_ To please his student a little, they walked through the port so that the rabbit could feel (and taste) the sea water... Although five minutes later, the mallard dragged him back to the city, in search of his goal: A bar.

Oswald raised an eyebrow: Well, it had been a long time since he drank beer and it was never too late for a drink, especially after a day of digging, trying to fight, as well as throwing spears as far as possible towards bags of potatoes used as targets. They came to a bar that looked quite busy, nothing like the humble bars in his town. Darkwing guided him right to the front, recalling Emily's etiquette and manners classes, the rabbit made a show of taking off his shabby hat to protect himself from the sun, but the duck grabbed his wrist. Raising his eyebrows, Oswald stood still, looking around: There were not only the typical low-skinned drunks like those in Sighiosara, but also ordinary-looking people, eating and drinking while chatting. He looked down when he noticed a glass of liquor, which he swallowed before speaking. "Did we just come to drink, sir?"

"Take a good look, kiddo. Can you see the kind of people here?"

Oswald looked around again, noting with some discomfort that they were one of the few who still had their hats on. "Well... lots of people, right?"

Darkwing laughed: "...Great answer, Oswald. But something you will learn throughout your life as a hunter is knowing where to look for things," Seeing the rabbit's strange face, he explained: "Looking for work, contacts... Or someone. And this is the best place to start." With that said, he whistled to the bartender, holding out a silver coin next to his empty glass; The man with oriental features gave him an eloquent look while he cleaned some cups with a cloth.

"...The _Zǐsè Móguǐ_ **(4) **comes to my bar, I'm honored." He said in an extremely ironic tone, taking the coin and pouring more liquor. "What are you looking for?"

"_Depends_ on what you can offer me here." Darkwing replied, taking the newly filled glass. "Routes to the Aegean."

"That is not difficult, only the... _Motivation_ is missing." He looked down to see now a gold coin, then looked at the masked duck's face. "...Take a walk and then I'll tell you."

Darkwing nodded and asked for a full bottle of whiskey, serving Oswald a bit, who had watched the entire scene in disbelief. "The innkeeper will be your best ally when you aren't in the wild."

"I think I understood that... By the way, what the hell did he just call you? Zi... what?

Darkwing shrugged, swallowing another shot of liquor. "Ah, they haven't called me like that in a long time: It is Zǐsè Móguǐ… I mean, _'Purple Demon'_." Oswald blinked in confusion. "They called me that in the Guangzhou skirmishes when many mercenaries went there for adventure, money... or _free_ opium."

"What's opium?"

"...Something that will drive you crazy." Darkwing replied grimly. "Believe me, you're better off with alcohol."

"Ah, then leave it at that. Mrs. Tweed once told me that curiosity can be deadly," Oswald replied, receiving more liquor in his glass," and why did they call you like that?"

"Don't even look at me, kiddo: I limit myself to introductions to scare my enemies."

"...With all due respect, master: _'I am the terror that flaps...'_ is not _really_ scary."

"...It _does_ when you have a Colt Dragoon pointed at your face," Darkwing replied, opening his jacket slightly, revealing his pistol. Oswald swallowed hard and grimaced.

* * *

He sat at one end of the room, ordering a pewter jar filled with hot spiced beer, as well as a whole loaf of bread, opening his log book, listing orders ready for transportation. Everything was ready to go, but something else was missing: There wasn't only the threat of monsters and other dark creatures swarming in the forests, but also the assailants, who were perfectly capable of killing as horribly as the beasts... The difference is that they could snatch even the teeth of their victims for a few coins. So, like many other merchants, he had to search for bodyguards... And the best way to search for them was in a place like this.

He removed his glasses to rub his eyes, looking around for good prospects... Suddenly, a noise of glasses breaking scared him: On the other side of the bar, there were two huge men like tractors (perfect for the job) who were shouting loudly, shaking bottles of beer in front a white duck and a black rabbit: It was obvious that they were the ones the men were apparently harassing. The rabbit then exclaimed: "Don't screw us, what tribute are you talking about?!"

"Any fucking foreigner who comes here will have to pay a tribute to restore this desolate city. So hand over all your gold." one of the men said, showing a pocket knife to the duck's face: "_Especially_ you, that accent and clothes _aren't_ from here... So you better show _everything_, duckling."

The duck in purple clothes gave him an unfathomable look, slowly got up... Then he took the filled glass cup that was next to his hand and threw it at the man's eyes... And then, with the terrifying speed of a reptile, the mallard took the beer bottle from the man's hands and broke it on his head, making him screamed in pain, clutching his blood-filled head. The other men threw themselves at the duck and the rabbit, causing other drunks at the bar to jump into the brawl. Glass bottles and glasses began to fly everywhere, so he had to hide under the table, turning it to protect himself... Or rather, protect his bag and the key to the shed. He leaned out to see the mallard dodging each of a man's fists and then he punched from under the drunk's jaw, making him clutch his throat with both hands, leaving his stomach exposed for the duck to kick it hard, knocking him down. Beside him, the rabbit dodged a broken bottle with which the other man tried to hurt him in the face and then being grabbed by the neck and pinned him against the bar; the duck turned as if to help him, but the rabbit responded by violently biting the man's hand, managing to get away from him, hitting a jump with his huge rabbit feet and kicked him in the legs, causing him to trip, and finished him off with a bottle crashed at his face... Suddenly someone came up and tried to grab his bag, which he repelled by taking out his miner pick and threatening to stab him with one eye.

...Finally the mess ended when the bartender came out with a shotgun in his hand, shouting that if everyone didn't calm down, he would call the police. Many began to protest to whistle, but others preferred to withdraw; Among them were the duck and the rabbit. Now that the fight was over, he was able to distinguish them better, especially the characteristic googles in their hats... The merchant took his bag and approached the bartender, asking about them. When he came out he tried to see them among the crowd that was still trying to fight outside the bar, managing to make out a pair of long rabbit ears in one corner, where are the bars for tying horses were. He ran towards them, making a come with his hat. The purple-robed duck spoke, scrutinizing him with his icy gaze:

"Do you need _something_?"

The man, with a thick complexion, a beard and white hair, smiled cunningly. "I'm looking for men who are willing to take a long walk south."

Oswald was going to say something, but Darkwing cut him off: "How far south?"

"...Constantinople."

_"...Copper?"_

The man's smile widened: "You _hit_ the spot, duck. Do you know the routes?"

"...We only _needed_ a driver," he reached out to the man. "Darkwing Duck and my apprentice Oswald Van Helsing, at your command." The man blinked and raised his eyebrows at the rabbit, who made an effort not to look away: He could no longer demonstrate fear or discomfort. The old miner laughed out loud.

"Since we're making up names, then you can call me _Stinky_ Pete, gentlemen."

* * *

Darkwing explained to Oswald the big picture: One of the ways to travel and earn money at the same time, apart from killing monsters and presenting their corpses in the villages to win, even a free stay as a thank you, was to accompany merchants in "routes" used to transport various objects, from grain, copper, wool... And even slaves. Seeing the dismay on Oswald's face, Darkwing explained: "War prisoners, people who owe money... and even orphaned children are taken to other lands to serve as almost enslaved laborers in fields or factories... I suppose what happened to you." He explained in an almost condescending tone. Oswald nodded somewhat resentfully at those memories. "We will most likely see things like that on the way to the Aegean."

"Aegean?"

"You will see. Will see a "friend" of the hunters. The best one that exists, in fact... But for that, you will have to get there first as "guards" of _'Stinky' _Pete to prevent not only monsters kill him, but also people with despicable long hands trying to snatch what he has." And Oswald felt his cheeks flush at the cold look Darkwing gave him, but he didn't look away. Then the duck handed him a wooden box. "As you already learned how to disassemble and clean a weapon, it's time to that you learn to charge and use it against possible targets along the way."

Thus, '_Stinky_' Pete promised them a bag of gold and silver coins if they were able to escort him with all his copper cargo to Constantinople. From there, they could either change mounts or take a train to the Aegean Sea, where it was their destiny: The so-called _"Trainer of Heroes"._

Because it would be the next day that they were leaving, they went to the merchant's shed to spend the night there, so Oswald asked for time to go to church and confess himself, as well as continue the letters he had started to write for his friends, as well as for Ortensia and Mrs. Tweed. Sometimes he regretted that even his handwriting was not as beautiful as that of Ortensia's book, of which he had discovered a small note from Mrs. Tweed, full of words of support and affection... His letters were full of smears and lines crooked, but he didn't want to change a bed: they had come out of his soul.

* * *

They set out the next morning, carrying the mules alongside the closed wagon of 'Stinky' Pete, where they could see several chunks of rocks that had a curious dark brown color with golden sparkles. Oswald wondered if one could earn money with rocks, until he remembered that he would have ended up smashing rocks for others if he hadn't run away. Occasionally he would glance at his now-loaded pistol at his belt, as well as at the trees and bushes around it. Darkwing had made him go ahead, while he was last: "The wolves have excellent pack management; The weakest go ahead and the strongest back to cover everything. When you have to take care of a caravan on your own or you are in a group of hunters, this is how they do it."

"I understand, thanks for the explanation," Oswald muttered, trying not to feel insulted by 'weak.' They kept a slight step next to the cart, while 'Stinky' Pete held the horses' reins with one hand while drinking from a bottle with the other... Then he heard a slight cracking in some bushes. Shadows from some trees... He looked askance at his master: Although he was still talking to the miner, Oswald saw a flash in his eyes and he also had a hand inside his jacket... He was ready. He moved his ears and tightened the reins, holding himself upright: That was the thief's' way, wait for the target and then jump towards them, like a wolf to their prey. He heard Darkwing whisper to the miner: _"They're following us... Speed up and don't stop for anything."_

"...Not even an hour has passed and the rats are _already_ coming to screw us... Thank goodness I brought my sharpened digging stick." And laughing at his joke, he accelerated the carriage, passing the two hunters. Just then, three men on horseback emerged to chase them with their pistols held high; Darkwing quickly responded with an accurate shot to the throat of the one ahead, causing him to fall from his mount as blood gushed out like a broken bottle. Oswald also tried to aim, that's what he had practiced for all these weeks! He started firing, missing several shots and hitting one of the horse's head and making him fall, crushing the thief down between terrible bellows; Darkwing stopped his mule and shouted at Oswald to chase the last one, that he would neutralize the one who fell. Oswald rushed his mule to catch up with the last thief, who was reaching _'Stinky' _Pete's cart, as if to board it... But the old miner responded by slapping the air with a kind of sharp object, almost hitting him with it, taking the thief away from him... Oswald pointed his pistol again, begging that this time he hit the target... Hitting him in the middle of the back, making him fall forward between cries of pain.

_'Stinky' _Pete stopped the carriage to rest a bit, looking at the two corpses (one with a destroyed throat and the other still with the horse crushing his leg and now with a shot in the head... "We can use the horse as food and save the mane, let's not waste anything. Besides, surely in the nearest town someone will recognize these evildoers and give us, even a few pieces of silver," Darkwing said stroking the dead horse's mane, while looking coldly at the last thief still alive, who was moaning in pain. "...You're going to be paralyzed and suffering all your life in jail... Or I can kill you to save you pain, what do you prefer?"

"...Go to Hell, you fucking bird!"

Darkwing shrugged and looked at Oswald with some reprimand: "That's _why_ it's better to shoot at the head, neck, or right into the heart to avoid _nuisances_ like this."

Oswald nodded, looking at the paralyzed thief with some apprehension. _'Stinky'_ Pete cleared his throat: "Well boys, tie up these bastards and walk. Let's see if a mountain troll or something like that don't attacks us, hahahaha."

**...**

She plunged the keys fluently, concentrating on the piano part of the sheet music, although she was aware that this relatively new piece by Dvořák (5) had to be accompanied by a violin to fully exploit the beauty of the music piece. Her eyes were closed, demonstrating not only that she had mastered the piece masterfully, something that would undoubtedly put her at the head of possible candidates to take into account to play for the Kaiser Wilhelm I **(6)** and Chancellor Bismarck, an honor that before seemed even unthinkable... but also for the intense feeling that was gripping her heart as if it were red hot pincers, a feeling of both intense happiness... As well as intense pain.

_"Perhaps that is why the best composers that have ever existed have worked based on what they felt at the time... Oh, my God, this powerful feeling that eats away at me and makes me want to create and destroy everything!"_ She thought, finishing the last notes with verve, imagining that, just like in those love and adventure stories that she read in her spare time, the beloved would appear at the door of the empty room where she was at the moment, seeing her playing and wanting to join...

...William Gracey, that charming adventurous male deer, charming and powerful, who had arrived in Danzig one day, just when Emily De Claire and Constance Hatchaway were walking through the port. Now that she thought about it in retrospect, it was evident that her friend had also fallen in love with the handsome 'sea lion' while he told them about his travels in the West Indies and the wealth he had gained by exporting sugar, tobacco and even rare plants; Emily had asked him more about those places he had toured, what the natives were like, how it felt to cross the ocean for months... Constance had asked how much money he had managed to generate. Emily was about to reprimand her: That kind of question shouldn't be asked! But Mr. Gracey laughed, rummaging through his bag.

"Why do you think that many countries, not only Spain, wanted to go to the Americas? Because it gives as much money as Africa... And I can prove it to you right now." And he showed at the two astonished young ladies two necklaces made with pearls, although one of them was entirely made with pearl beads, which Constance took almost from one tug. "Came from the waters of the Caribbean."

"It's beautiful!" Constance had exclaimed with delight, asking the adventurer to please put it on her, which he agreed to, giving then the other jewel to Emily, who took it feeling ashamed.

"...Please _don't_ make that face, dear Emily," Mr. Gracey murmured softly. "It's normal that things are given to our loved ones, and now I consider both of you as friends... Let me put it on to see how beautiful it looks at you."

"Oh, of course," she said giving it to him... _feeling_ a strange shiver inside her then as she felt William's rough fingers on the skin of her neck...

Since then they had become inseparable, with him visiting them when they were allowed to leave o the Academy, staying to listen Emily and Constance singing both Schubert's 'Ave Maria' in the chapel or a musical version of Macbeth's Song of the Witches (7) in the presentations of the Academy... Feeling as her heart warmed every time he looked at her... And at the same time squeeze to see how her friend also looked at him with the same expression... but also full of greed.

The song ended, and now she could open her eyes, feeling them burn.

* * *

It took time since they arrived in Constantinople to go to the next point of their destination, taking time to count the profits they had made not only thanks to the heavy bag of gold and silver coins that 'Stinky' Pete had given them, but also for coins they had earned by annihilating bandits and low-ranked monsters like goblins ... or mid-ranked like mountain trolls. Oswald felt that his aim with the pistol was improving little by little, although he always received some criticism from his master, however minor it was... Added to that, he _still_ felt a persistent feeling of disgust when handling and tying up the corpses to be dragged by the mules to the next town... While Darkwing took it without any difficulty, even making dark jokes about being a _traveling butcher_... Oswald _didn't_ want to imagine how _long_ it would take him to _be_ like the mallard.

They also spent days walking around the old Byzantine capital to replace clothes, boots and supplies, as well as mending tears in the capes and touring the place… Something Oswald noticed was how Darkwing was recognized in various places, and not only for his striking clothing or the eternal mask on his face... Expressions like the one he had heard in Varna or 'Shadow Warrior' accompanied the comments he could hear when passing among the settlers... Darkwing had told him that not only he had nicknames (_"Both flattering as offensive ones" _the mallard added), but also other famous hunters, such as the great-grandfather Abraham Van Helsing:

"...They used to call him the _'Overcomer of Twilight'_ by killing a powerful warlock who pretended to use the souls of the wretched ones who died for the Great Fire of London **(8)** to open a portal to the Underworld... Too bad I didn't get to be at the time, but both your parents and I knew about this great story from many others about him."

"That's incredible. Will I know more about him and my family soon?" Oswald asked as he left the city for the South, looking for the sea. Darkwing smiled.

"... First we will see our colleague and then, based on your progress, we will see." Oswald frowned, and when he was going to protest, Darkwing interrupted him: "...This colleague has known and worked for _many_ guilds and hunting families, _including_ Van Helsing clan." He added smiling when seeing the surprised face of his student. "...So it is possible that he still has letters and objects from them that he received years ago: We made many requests to him."

"Requests for what?"

"Weapons and armor, not to mention his training grounds... Not for nothing we used to call him not only the '_Trainer of Heroes'_, but also _'The Forgemaster of Gods.'_

"He must be a big man in every sense of the word," Oswald said enthusiastically, yet Darkwing made a strange noise.

"Yeah... _big _man he is."

Oswald hadn't understood what he meant except when they arrived at the plains of Thessaly, a couple of weeks after intermittently walking between digging graves, chasing monsters or evildoers, staying in bars or in hostels along the way... The rabbit was fascinated, looking at the wide fields that extended towards the mountain range where Mount Olympus was; He had heard a lot about the gastronomy of the place, not to mention its cheeses and yogurt. They continued to advance further south, until they reached the limits of a city that looked like a mix of ancient ruins of huge buildings and shattered statues, as well as relatively modern buildings on the outskirts: Athens, one of the cradles of modern civilization. Darkwing led him to the part of the ruins, an area he called 'Acropolis' to search for that famous Forgemaster... And to the surprise of the black rabbit, they found him in an almost comical way:

Oswald was walking around the old columns of the Acropolis in search of some prey, either to eat or to destroy, with Darkwing behind him to assess him... when he noticed some feminine laughter coming from a bush that was a few meters away... As he approached more, Oswald noticed that there was some kind of brown goat that was inside the bush. "Oh, I think it got stuck!" The young Van Helsing exclaimed, approaching the little goat, noting that it was even smaller than him. "Take it easy, little buddy, I'm going to get you out of here" And grabbed him by the hind legs, making the goat not bleat... but scream:

"WHAT DO YOU THINK, INSOLENT BOY!" The goat bellowed, causing the female voices from before to reveal themselves as women who were bathing in a nearby pond, whom ran out screaming. The strange goat, which revealed itself as a tiny man with horns and goat legs exclaimed in anguish: "No, sweet maidens, come back!"

"Monster, get ready to...!"

"OSWALD!" The rabbit froze at the harsh voice of Darkwing, who stood behind him with his arms crossed. "Put that gun down or I'll _take_ it from you. That is not the way to treat the Forgemaster..."

Oswald blinked in disbelief "...Forgemaster?!"

"The _Olympus Forgemaster_, brat... Now with less work, it's true; But I _still_ have my reputation," the creature replied, glancing at the rabbit. "_What_ are you looking at? Have you never seen a satyr in the small town where you came from?" Ignoring the angry expression on the rabbit, the satyr turned his attention to the hunting duck, changing his expression to one of mild surprise with resignation. "...Ah, Darkwing Duck. Centuries _without_ seeing you. What made you come out of the caves in the East?"

Darkwing made a slight bow with his hat to the strange creature, without leaving his sardonic smile: "A job that _may_ interest you, Phil."

"_Philotectes_, you wretch bird."

TBC

**Author's Note: **

**(1)** _Golem_: Colossal creature of medieval and Jewish folklore made of clay, stone or even metal; Mentioned in the Bible and the Talmud, it was believed that only rabbis could create them to perform various tasks (Mainly and according to legends, defending the Jewish ghettos against anti-Semitic attacks), with the disadvantage that they lack the ability to speak, interpret and question, getting to do their tasks _literally_.

**(2)** Oswald refers to the sling used by David to defeat Goliath _(1 Samuel 17 - 58)_

**(3)** The infamous _"Salem Trials"_ took place in Salem, Massachusetts between 1692 and 1693, filled with accusations of witchcraft, ending in 20 people of the 150 accused being executed between hanging and crushing.

**(4)** **Zǐsè Móguǐ:** _"Purple Demon"_ in Chinese ... _"Móguǐ" _can also be used for_ "Dragon"..._ Which is a future spoiler, hehe.

**(5)** _"Romance in F Minor"_ was published by the Czech composer Antonin Dvořák in 1879.

**(6)** William I of Germany and Prussia was King of Prussia and _Kaiser_ (Emperor) of Germany, from 1871 to 1888.

**(7)** Reference is made to _"The Witches Song: Double Trouble"_ for Shakespeare's _Macbeth_ (1606), used as a song in the film adaptation of _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ (2004)

**(8)** Reference to the _Great Fire of London_ on September 6, 1666 that devastated the city and burned emblematic places such as the Cathedral of Saint Paul.


	16. Akolouthos

**XVI **

**Akolouthos**

The so-called _'Gods' Forgemaster' _had been surprised by several things: First and foremost, that Darkwing Duck had an apprentice: _"You as a master is as incongruous as the god Zeus being ever chaste." _he had sentenced upon hearing the story... And then learning that the small and scrawny black rabbit was the (apparent) last descendant of the bloody illustrious Van Helsing Clan... And since the old satyr didn't believe it, Darkwing pulled Oswald's leg to up to make the mark visible. Philotectes snorted:

"Unless you're the son of a crazy admirer who screwed your leg with a burning iron mark, I'll have to believe that you really are the last Van Helsing and want to continue the family legacy, right?"

"...I have no choice, in the town where I lived they threw me into the wolf's mouth just for being a Van Helsing," Oswald replied, frowning. Then he cast a frowning glance at the tall white mallard. "...And he finished dragging me here."

"Stop complaining, kiddo: Get used to it that many times we're slaves to the circumstances… And to the desires and sins of our families." Darkwing growled crossing his arms. "Besides, in these times, it's imperative to be able to defend yourself against monsters, even if you aren't a hunter per se. And that's why we're here."

"…Do you want me to lend you my field and resources to train this scrawny boy as a hunter? Oh, for Zeus, it will be a lot of work." Philotectes said taking a disapproving look at the rabbit's slim appearance. Oswald protested:

"Hey, at least I've gotten some strength from digging every day for the past few months!"

" ...Pfff, digging: That is for beginners; I thought you're _crueler_ than that, Darkwing," the satyr huffed, folding his arms, "...I haven't trained wannabes for a long time, so we'll see if this little lagomorph endures real training."

"By the Virgin, it seems that what I've been through these last months has been just child's play," Oswald muttered under his breath. Darkwing raised his eyebrows at him.

"...It's because what you've seen with me was pure theory and warm-up, Oswald. Now let's get practice."

At those words, the rabbit made an effort not to snort or at least sigh.

Oswald learned that they would stay for months on the peninsula, that is, the end of that year and perhaps until the end of the following summer, so he was quick to finish his letters and send them to Sighiosara. He had finished them and there were words of encouragement for his friends... As well as words of affection for his now beloved Miss Ortensia. He had to be as concise as possible regarding his location, since Darkwing had forced him to erase details about Athens and about the places where they had been before: "The letters are not safe, much less those who carry them. Private information and valuables have fallen into the wrong hands... Unless you are sure that whoever receives the message has a Morse code device to listen to it, don't reveal much in your letters. the mallard said sternly, frowning at the sight the loving tone in the words of the letter to Ortensia. Oswald blushed slightly; He hadn't spoken to his master on the matter, he wasn't sure how he would take it... And worse when he had heard Darkwing and Philotectes speak about _'the irrevocable loneliness of the monster hunters.'_

"I have met _many_ hunters in my life, of different sizes and races, however, _all_ have something in common: Regardless of whether they are in a guild, they're lone wolves at the end of the day," the satyr said as he showed them the extensions of the land where would be from now on. "Some will have family, but _most_ of the time they are alone, that is _their_ path and destiny."

Oswald looked askance at his master at those words, noting that his masked face, although it seemed imperturbable, he had a strange flash in his eyes... As well as a tension in the lines of his feathered neck. To avoid giving in to the curiosity of asking him what was wrong, (although Oswald knew that Darkwing would become an _ice wall _as always when was about his personal life) the black rabbit quickly asked Phil ("_Philotectes, boy."_ He snorted) if he remembered something of the Van Helsing clan. With Darkwing's help in remembering their names, the satyr said:

"Oh yes, the Van Helsing were good clients, many of their weapons that they used in recent times were designed by me... _Too bad_ they were lost, they were great objects." Seeing Oswald's expression, he added, "...I may still have letters and receipts from them, perhaps."

...In the end he only had a simple receipt about a crossbow, but for Oswald it was much more than that: They were a few words in an angular calligraphy, ending with that same reddish wax seal, already parched from the years:

**_"Enkhizuken, August 12, 1859_**

**_Received the maple wood crossbow in excellent condition. In fact, you're been very kind to accompany it with a tin arrow to do the test. I can't wait to practice with this beauty. We will send the payment with bills of exchange before the end of this month._**

**_From the family we thank you, P._**

**_S. Van Helsing"_**

"...Susannah _had_ that writing. Oh, I got rid the ones she had sent me, bless her soul, when I was shitting rocket flames on the Yangtze river." Darkwing said quietly, looking at the receipt the satyr brought them after rummaging around. He looked at Oswald, who was sliding his fingertips on the aged parchment paper... _Feeling_ a lump in his throat.

He was getting _closer_ to knowing his mother's face. And perhaps that of his father and the rest of his family.

Phil's training land seemed less impressive with the high esteem that the satyr held as _'trainer'_, but Oswald had to admit it was huge, with wide meadows between huge chunks of ruined columns and stairs, a target shooting area with countless holes on the wooden circles, as well as other wooden mechanisms and movable strings that Oswald didn't understand how they worked _("Oh, you'll see when we start using them. They are a little rusty, but they still work"_ Phil said with a smug smile), as well as a weathered stone rectangle that Phil said was used for declamations in the past... And now served as a sort of quadrilateral_: "There is a kind of local hero who still comes to this place for a little training. I can write to him to come from Itaquack to come sparring for you, boy,"_ Phil said with an almost sadistic smile. The place was quite far from everything, marked with an intense ocean smell, a smell that Oswald already knew well, not to mention its sound, so relaxing. He and Darkwing both slept on mats on the floor of Phil's little abode, and as the rabbit followed the satyr for the training routine, the duck went out to 'make deals' with the locals for drachmas, the local currency. When Oswald asked about it, Phil laughed:

_"Hunters live off the 'alms' that people give them for annihilating monsters. When he says "make deals" he means that he is looking for some job to do... Both for money and for pleasure ... Yes, that's what many hunters like him have told me before."_ he added when he saw Oswald's strangeness. _"...So many times they do that they even get to enjoy it."_

**_…_**

...Zenox stared into the nothingness of the room, a blanket over his shoulders, his eyes wide with terror. Felix was by his side, taking his hands to give him courage and not leave him alone at those times.

The situation had undoubtedly _twisted_ to a level where they were unsure if they could get free.

_...He had just bought a sweet loaf coated with melted caramel that really had worth the silver coin it cost. He was finishing eating it sitting in the main square, looking at the lights of the street lamps when it happened: People began to scream in terror around him. Giant shadows were seen in the sky, still reddish in color... Were they birds?_

_"Watch out...!" Someone shouted near him, causing the orange cabbit to drop to the ground screaming, covering his head. Horrible noises, like that of a monstrous animal, could be heard in the screaming. He raised his head and saw them:_

_...They were gray bats, but the horrifying size of a cow landing on the plaza, destroying the market stalls, trying to take some people and rising into the air with them... At that moment Zenox saw that several villagers were trying to repelling them with their tridents and machetes, trying to also throw buckets of holy water on them, but the monsters were fast, coming to attack some of the locals, especially one of them with his head practically ripped away by a violent bite._

_"Felix!" Felix!" Zenox shouted, trying to locate his friend among the crowd of people running around, watching as the locals and some of those men in googled hats tried to shoot down the giant bats. Then a scream alerted him: It was Felix! He was huddled with other children against the remains of a stall, trying to drive away one of the bats with a broken stick._

_...Zenox didn't think about it: He simply ran towards the monster, grabbing the little bag of salt he had on his belt and throwing himself on the beast's back, throwing the salt on his fur and screaming: "GET AWAY OF THEM, YOU MONSTER!"_

_...Suddenly the fur of the bat began to smoke and catch fire, as if someone had thrown a burning match at it... When it hadn't been like that. Zenox withdrew his hands from the creature's gray hair when he saw that it had turned on out of nowhere, causing the creature howling of pain. How did he know it was possible?! As far as he knew, the salt wasn't flammable! The beast began to rise to try to get away, looking like a flying torch now... Until a hail of bullets flew towards it, making it fall back to the ground, already dead._

_"Zenox, are you alright?!" Felix asked running towards his friend, who was starting to tremble, still looking at his hands, which still let out a faint wisp of smoke... "Zenox..."_

_Then they heard exclamation sounds behind them: They were the other children who had barricaded themselves with Felix, now staring in horror and pointing their fingers at the orange cabbit, as if they were going to scream... And alert the others. Letting out a strangled cry of horror, Zenox had run back to Tapper's with Felix behind him... From that moment he knew he was doomed._

_Zenox had told Felix about this strange ability in which fire came out of his hands for no reason, something that had happened only once, when he lit a candle... And as some children had seen him, yelling at him that he was a monster; He had no idea how it had originated, or how it worked... The only thing that both he and Felix had was perfectly clear is that was an abnormal ability, something that the Church would undoubtedly point out as diabolical... And that would have to be eliminated._

Zenox had locked himself in the room for the past two days, refusing to go to work or even pray, on the verge of tears and trembling with fear at the thought that the moment his nose appeared outside, the locals would be outside with the sticks and torches ready to do with him what they couldn't with the lunatics in the sewers. As Felix continued to work as a salesman, he would tell him what he saw and could hear about him from the villagers.

"...There are very ugly rumors about _'a boy who set fire to a monster'_ and that they want to find him... At least they haven't said anything about some _'orange fur'_ or _'long ears'_ or we'd be _screwed_ now." the black cat said in low voice, trying to cheer him up. The orange cabbit moaned, covering his face with his hands:

"Still, I can't go out anymore, Felix: what if it happens again in front of someone? What would happen, would give me time to run away without being chased...? I won't bear it, I really won't…" He revealed his face again, showing his reddened eyes in the afternoon light that filtered through the window. He looked at his friend's shocked face. "...I'm really a monster?"

"...Zen, stop saying stupid things," the cat replied, hardening his expression, squeezing the cabbit's hands between his, "I don't think you're one... And Oswald would _least_ believe it and _you_ know it." he added, making Zenox groan again, distressed.

"...He's training to _be_ a hunter. Someone who _destroy_ creatures like... like m..."

"_Don't_ say that, you are _not_ a monster!" Felix exclaimed, grabbing Zenox by the shoulders, shaking him, "Ozzie _will_ continue be Ozzie; no matter what time passes, no matter what Darkwing teaches him, no matter what he gets to see out there… He would never do that to a friend. It's like you haven't known him for years." He added grinning regretfully, making Zenox smile weakly too.

"You're right, how could I think of that? Oswald is our friend." Zenox conceded, clasping his hands in his lap, as if he was praying, "...but what will _happen_ to me in the meantime? They will soon realize that it was me... And then what...?"

"I don't know what to tell you, Zen, but I'm sure of something" Felix said weakly, making Zenox look at him "...If you are arrested, I'll fight for you, even if they kill me or lock me up with you."

"God forbid" Zenox whispered, controlling the tears. The cat and the cabbit were silent, thinking of various possibilities, such as hiding the rest of their lives and even fleeing the town... At that, there was a knock on the door and then it opened: It was Mr. Tapper.

"Sorry to interrupt your pleasant gathering, but there is someone who came to see you." At the horror of Zenox's face and the protective gesture that Felix made when he put his arms around him, he cleared his throat. "Isn't a priest, and he paid for this private interview." And without waiting for an answer, he turned his face away from the doorway, "you can come in, sir."

And before Felix and Zenox, a portly lion with abundant red mane and clothing appeared that strongly reminded them of Darkwing Duck: Coat, boots and a hat with those strange round glasses with leather... As well as a huge pistol on the belt. The powerful feline took off his hat and bowed slightly.

"It took me a while to find you, but I had to see you in person no matter how." He extended a huge claw to the scrawny hand of the stunned cabbit. "Zenox Fiamma, right? You can call me Simba, boy."

The lion sat on the only chair in the room, with Felix and Zenox sitting together on the cot. They tried to offer him something to drink, but the lion affably declined. Zenox was still trembling at the words of Mr. Simba, explaining in an almost casual tone that he had come to town to resupply before continuing his journey north, so he had thus witnessed the attack of the giant bats... And, therefore, of the _"amazing prodigy"_ (in the words of the hunter) made by the little cabbit. As with Darkwing, Felix jumped to defend:

"...You came to arrest my friend, send him to church, didn't you?" Felix said almost hostilely, clinging to his friend's hand, "He has done nothing wrong, he doesn't know how this strange power originates...! That doesn't make him bad, and you can't take him to the Inquisi...!"

"Hey, hey, stop the train, buddy," Simba replied, raising his two paws in a sign of peace, something very incongruous with the size of his claws, "Who said I came to send your friend to the Inquisition? No, I came with other intentions." He turned to see the silent Zenox and in surprise took one of his hands in his claw, scaring him.

"What...?"

"You... have potential. That spirit... That power." Zenox blinked in surprise, not knowing what to say... Wasn't he going to send him to the Church authorities? "...It's something that would be very helpful in the profession I practice."

Zenox glanced sideways at Felix, knowing he was thinking the same thing: Becoming what Oswald was just heading for. He took a deep breath and looked the lion in the eyes "...You want me to become a hunter like you, right?"

Simba smiled and whispered: "..._Taking_ into account _your_ situation in this town, I think it'd be your _save ticket_: People talk, rumors fly... And they'd come to you. After that, I would only say that God have mercy on you the moment the villagers find you, because they _won't_ have it... I think you have no other way out."

Zenox looked down, seeing his hands, looking so normal... "Our friend didn't have it either," he murmured. He raised his head and explained: "Our friend, Oswald, also left to become a hunter, but because _he's_ a descendant from a family of hunters... And the people used him to get rid of a vampire who _almost_ killed him; He decided to go with another veteran hunter who would train him."

"Oh yes, that is quite common: Veterans take _'Acolytes'_... Followers want to take the _'habits'_, that is, _leave_ the shovel or the plow, the soot brush, the bucket to collect leeches **(1)** ... And wield the pistol and the blade, doing something different... Which many don't dare to, but would love to exercise.

"...And how would Zenox fit into all this?" Felix replied with a frown. Simba snorted, adjusting his broad red mane.

"How? Very simple: The hunter's guilds are always looking for, as we usually say, "Fresh blood" to our ranks... And I see that Zenox, with that power and that fighting spirit when facing that enormous creature would be a valuable force for us."

"We've heard of the guilds, but we do not know exactly how they work." Zenox said softly. "Can you explain a little?"

"Oh, of course boy," Simba replied, smiling triumphantly, as if he was now on the field he dominates well: "Basically they're hunter associations, we support each other, we look for work, contacts, places to meet and a protection, that is, if you are having problems with a monster swarm, you just have to scream in the guild and several will come to give you a hand; there is camaraderie and solidarity among us, being a profession so despised by the _'mundane'_, it's more than an association... We're a brotherhood. "he explained puffing out his chest with pride.

"...So-sounds great." Zenox muttered shyly at the entire speech. "And... And do you think they won't try to lynch me there like in the Church?"

_"Zenox, are you really considering it?!"_ Felix thought, looking at him in amazement. Simba laughed.

"...It seems like you're determined, huh? Certainly with that fire you carry, and I'm not just speaking literally…" he said resting a claw on the chest of the orange cabbit "…You'd do wonders for the brotherhood." He rose heavily from his chair. "Better go down to the bar, Zazú must be eating his fingernails out of anxiety... he's babysitting me on my father's order, heh." Simba said, rolling his eyes. "...I'll see you there, Zenox Fiamma... _Unless_ you want to stay."

And he left the room, leaving the cat and the cabbit with conflicting expressions and thoughts. Felix stared after him after a few minutes of silence: "...You _really_ want to, _don't_ you?"

Zenox just looked at him, not knowing what to say. His mind was in total chaos, full of thoughts with pros and cons: Becoming an aspiring hunter, like Oswald? Well... If he was honest, the black rabbit _had_ accepted this "_game_" with Mr. Darkwing in exchange for information... And also to _escape_ from the people who wanted to use him as their 'Trojan Horse', an expression they had learned from Emily; So he was doing the same thing, _fleeing_? _"The villagers... While they pushed Oswald to possible death, they'll kill me without hesitation..."_ he thought in anguish, looking at his hands, which suddenly began to smoke to his horror and distress... And Felix took his hands firmly in his, not caring about the heat. Zenox swallowed hard. "_What_ other choice do I have...?"

Felix nodded, outlining a sad smile. "...And as for me..."

Zenox looked at him alarmed. "But what do you say?! Of course you'd _come_ with me...! You'd become a hunter too!"

"_You think?_ I don't know... I don't see myself doing what Ozzie is doing right now... Killing freaks for coins... I'm sure I'd be lousy and I'd end my remaining lives in one bite" he laughed grimly, looking towards the ceiling. Seeing the slightly anxious face of the cabbit, he smiled with resignation.

They entered the small bar of the hostel, at that time full. Zenox took a deep breath, thinking that people wouldn't notice him; They both stared at the lion hunter sitting in a corner, talking to a blue bird with a long tail... Felix cleared his throat, drawing his attention. The lion smiled.

"Zazú, these are the ones I told you about. The long eared one can become a valuable acquisition for us ... It will be the beginning of an interesting adventure."

**...**

Days turned into weeks. The dry, warm winter could be seen around the perimeters of the shooting range, in which Oswald ran completely barefoot from the steppes until he reached Phil's little house, exhausted and with his tongue hanging out... It was as if the satyr and the mallard would have agreed to screw the rabbit with brutal training: He had the routine of getting up before dawn to run up the hill and then into the city, regardless of whether it was raining or snowing, and then digging. And after that, still on the verge of collapse, Darkwing dragged him towards the coast to hunt giant snakes, since that would be the price to pay for this _'education'_.

"If you're going to use my shooting range, my weapons, and my terrain to keep this kid from being smashed to pieces in the first minute of combat, then you can give me scales and fangs from giant sea snakes and hydras, as well as leather for centaurs." Phil was saying with a smile. "I've lived a long time, but I don't have the reflexes from before to handle giant reptiles."

And Oswald ended up with salty water in his eyes and starting to get dizzy from the wobble of the canoe as he entered the waters in search of giant sea snakes and some other sea monsters, almost all with multiple tentacles. Darkwing was sinisterly joking that very soon the rabbit would accompany him to kill both the Kraken and Davy Jones: _"That bastard owes me hundreds of gold coins in a poker game when I was acting as Darkwing Doubloon," _he said, holding a harpoon to stick it in the belly of the first snake to cross them. The black rabbit wielded the spears to throw them into its jaws and prevent himself from being bitten or dragged into the sea. After a couple of weeks, he already had a few fangs and iridescent colored scales to make necklaces and other jewelry. The mallard had even shown him his own collection of monster fangs and scales in his saddlebags: _"If you're in trouble and out of money, some monster teeth can give you a few coins with some merchant."_

Added to the routines of practicing archery and crossbow shots at targets, failing miserably in the early days ("_Do you want me to lose my head?!"_ Phil said on the occasion that Oswald fired the crossbow and arrow almost he snatched the fur from between his horns), skinned his knuckles by hitting hollow trees, and even hitting a mobile wooden doll that when received a bad blow, turned on itself and with the stick it had equipped, hit the rabbit in the face or back **(2).**

As for Darkwing, he had added tough exercises like making him walk down the stone columns to a remote well, holding on his shoulders a pole balanced with two vases filled with water to the brim: If Oswald dropped a little water, he was forced to go back or dig his grave for one more hour; Also, tying some weights in his hands with bandages so that he could climb some wooden columns: _"The Chinese army used these exercises for the soldiers. So how you learn to handle your weapons, also handle the body and the mind,"_ the mallard said, pointing to the top of the column, where he had planted an arrow so that the rabbit could retrieve it anyway. All this added to the practically ritual of cleaning, disassembling and assembling the pistols without errors. Oswald ended up exhausted, feeling that when he lay down on his mat to rest he would fall asleep. His muscles burned with pain from both standing and sitting. His fingers trembled as he broke the loaves of bread and cheese, grabbed the spoon for vegetable soup or lentil stew, or even holding the cup full of milk or wine. And yet he had to accompany his master in the forest or the coast, teaching Oswald how to swim and hold his breath, something that, after just swimming in the stream in Sighiosara, was terrifying and the first time almost drowned.

Winter and therefore Christmas and the end of the year were quite rough for Oswald. With Emily he had learned about the holidays that he and his friends didn't know because of the orphanage. He continued to train and hunt, with Oswald gasping wearily, leaning on the paddle or metal bars where he used to do some push-ups. Due to some hunts, knife fights or exercises that ended badly, such as Darkwing taking Oswald down a small cliff from the shore and making him climb with the help of his hands and some pegs, ended up falling and hitting the submerged rocks... _All this_ caused that apart from the old scars on his chest, several more were accumulating in his arms and back.

Christmas came and Darkwing's way of celebrating was by going to Oswald to a nearby pub. Because his current earnings (between helping to kill monsters and handing over their bodies, even teeth, as well as the escorted trip to Constantinople) hadn't yet covered the bag of coins that had given the Virgin an offering, Oswald wasn't able to order a plate of smoked ham that he had seen another diner eat and whose scent had made his stomach roar like a dragon, so he settled for a plate of vegetable stew with cheese, which was still tasty. Darkwing asked for a two _"Pernod Fils"_ **(3)** in near perfect French. Oswald blinked with curiosity to see how in front of the mallard they placed a green bottle, two crystal glasses... And two sugar lumps.

"Generally I have a little tradition at Christmas: A drink with the ol' _Green Devil _**(4)**_." _He took the jug of water and dissolved the clods in his and Oswald's glasses. "Cheers, kiddo."

"Thank you, sir..." And the instant he drank the curious green drink, he nearly knocked over the chair as he got up and clutched at his throat, making pitiful noises of pain. Darkwing found it very funny. "It burns me more than whiskey!"

"_Merry Christmas_, Oswald," Darkwing replied, drinking from his glass and closing his eyes almost placidly. The rabbit coughed several times, hitting its chest. Then he gave him a sour look.

"You _should_ have warned me," Oswald spluttered, still clutching his chest and stomach. Darkwing clicked his tongue and rummaging through his jacket, he pulled out a small bundle of cards, tossing it onto the table in front of him. The rabbit looked at him curiously as he untied the string, looking at the first letter... And blushing with both shame and anger "..._This_ is from Ortensia, did you have this and without telling me...?"

"After this I will show you how to go to a post office and use the telegraph," Darkwing replied, ignoring his student's fury, raising his eyebrows. "And I've not read them, I've no need to know something, unless it has my name."

Oswald's blush deepened.

* * *

**_"Hello Oswald! We'd like to tell you that we are doing well where possible; the bag of coins helped us a lot to cover the expenses while we got a job. Not a day goes by that you are not in our prayers thanking you, not to mention praying that you be well and return safely... "_**

Oswald was breathing heavily, staring at the target in front of him. Squinting, he kept the rope taut, ready to release it. He was trying to ignore the sounds of firecrackers exploding in the distance, no doubt celebrating the New Year. He had managed to hit the target after twenty unsuccessful attempts (in fact, in one he broke the rope), and when he released his hand, the arrow flew to the center... Failing by a few centimeters, but at least he hit the target, right?

"In that case, we'd say you targeted an artery instead of the heart ... If it were a vampire, you'd already be dead." Darkwing was saying, folding his arms. "...If we are going to the East to get rid of a vampire Lord, then we have to practice more."

Oswald agreed to everything, thinking about how Felix and Zenox managed after his departure, thinking about getting all kinds of rare treasures to buy a house in the mountains... Or even facing the sea! He was also thinking of Ortensia's words in her letter, revealing to him that she was in the United Kingdom, taking advanced classes and begging him to please contact her to let her know how he was doing and how she could help him from there ...A stronger blush had seized him.

**_"...I'm very excited about the idea of getting there, not only to be able to get in touch with other girls in the academy, but they have a greenhouse! If you don't know what that is, it's like a glass house where you can take care of plants properly. I'm thinking of developing ideas to make chemicals more friendly for plants and for us, avoiding that there are so many poisoning patients... And my father believes that botany is not a science, or that it can help others..."_**

_"As you're helping me before and now"_ Oswald thought with a warmth in his chest when writing the answer, letting her know how he was, the places he was visiting (of course, with few details) and... Of how cruelly insane would Darkwing become when he was in a bad mood or a monster that refused to die. Even frustrated by his crooked letters, Oswald wrote:

**_"...It's the first time that I spend a Christmas alone since the time I was in the orphanage before I even met Felix; they gave me an infernal drink and two daggers, courtesy of the master, saying that it would be the last weapon that I would receive... I have had to learn to collect stones and wood to turn them into weapons... It's ironic since I am with the so-called 'Gods' Forgemaster' but he doesn't want to give me anything."_**

Darkwing had shown him how to go to the post office and thus ask for a letter for himself, as well as force him to transcribe the Morse alphabet for hours to know how to read it, how to write it, leaving him little time to write other letters, to read Ortensia's grimoire... Or write in Emily's book. It was all a load of study and work that left him exhausted... It was strange all the pressure that the white mallard was imposing on him... And for what?

"...I keep saying that I miss seeing you with an _akolouthos_ **(5)**, less with someone so young." Phil was saying one afternoon as young Van Helsing was still trying to throw blades against a plank several meters from them. "I guess the _older_ we are, the _lonelier_ we feel, right?"

"_Speak_ for you, if you've been isolated in the same place for centuries," Darkwing said, watching the rabbit miss his shots with a cold but attentive expression, "...I need my Trojan horse to be prepared for what life throws at it."

Phil raised his eyebrows at the mallard. "..._What_ are you _planning_, hunter?"

Darkwing smiled. "...I don't usually have all my ideas in one basket, then everything is lost."

"Glorious, glorious day! It was a long time since I came!" said the powerful blond duck of a bearing and size that made Darkwing tiny, hugging Philotectes... Or rather squeezing the satyr until almost fit him between his huge pecs.

"N... not that glorious f-for me, Storkules! P-put me down now!" The satyr protested, so the duck with a Greek robe gently put him down.

"Oh sorry, I am so excited! I hadn't come here since I was a tiny duckling!" Storkules replied cheerfully, looking at the dour mallard and the perplexed rabbit who looked at him from below. "Greetings, friends of Philotectes! I am Storkules, hero of Itaquack!"

"It's a pleasure," Darkwing replied with a nod. Oswald approached, shaking hands... Which the portentous Greek duck nearly broke it as he enthusiastically returned the grip.

"Philotectes had written me to give some demonstrations to some young aspirants of the hero's path; I took a long time because my dear Selene wanted to recover some paintings... Hey, but you don't look young." the duck exclaimed, getting very close to the mallard, as if studying him.

"I'm fine for my age, thanks!" Darkwing grumbled offended, pushing Storkules' beak out of his face. "It's the boy, not me!"

Oswald resisted an urge to wrinkle his face: Boy? Storkules' seemingly eternal smile widened at the sight of him. "Size is no excuse to not fight! When I was a kid I was half your size, rabbit!" _"I don't want to imagine" _thought Oswald almost sarcastically when that same hand that squeezed his fingers lifted him with the ease of a rag doll. "Let's fight!"

"Now?" Oswald asked in a strangled tone. He'd been punched a lot before, but those big knuckles that the duck had were sure to hurt more than Darkwing's knuckles or than any drunken thug! He tried to protest, but Storkules led him to the pumice square, laying him on the ground.

"Okay, let's start with the easiest, which is to fight and dodge blows, so... Try to hit me as hard as you can!" Behind them Phil and Darkwing watched intently. Phil then shouted, "Come on, boy, if you can hold on for a few seconds, I'll buy you a few glasses of cider!" "Friend Oswald, they will _underestimate_ you because of your size, so take advantage of your advantages..."

_"That's it!"_ Oswald thought and started running at high speed around the quadrilateral, jumping and accelerating more and more, noting to his satisfaction that Storkules was following him with his eyes and turning his head everywhere. _"Wait and then hit him in the head or in the stomach!" _He kept running, trying to dodge the blows that the stout duck threw at him, narrowly escaping from a blow that the Greek hero who almost knocked him down, and then he made a sharp turn and threw a punch into the stomach of his opponent... And then his eyes widened in almost terror: Storkules had stopped the blow.

"Use speed to your advantage, too bad I know that trick." And grabbing the rabbit by the arm, he twisted it slightly (but enough to make Oswald scream) and threw him backwards, landing almost face-first on the ground, where he was lying. "Oh, friend Oswald, I'm sorry! Sometimes I _don't_ measure my strength! You're good?" Storkules asked worriedly, approaching the rabbit, which was still shrunken like a ball... But the rabbit then made a quick movement with his hand, as if he was going to slap him ... Or rather throw something at him. "Ah, my eyes!" And Oswald took advantage of that thousandth of a second that Storkules had raised his hands to his eyes to jump and kick him hard in the stomach... And although he didn't bend him, he managed to almost trip over backwards. "Hey, that's not fair, little friend!"

...Darkwing smiled: You could tell that the damn rabbit wasn't so screwed up. He had taught him that _sometimes_ you had to take advantage of the elements around... like _throwing_ a handful of sand as if it were one of his usual smoke bombs. Apparently things could go in the same channel that had begun to travel... Storkules moved away from the quadrilateral, rubbing his watery eyes.

"That's why I _don't_ like hunters, they fight dirty! They have _no_ fighting honor!"

_"Yep, yep, yep,_ ah... When it comes to fighting a bloodsucking beast or a demon, no honor exists," Darkwing replied, looking at the tip of his left hand almost indolently, then looking at his panting student sitting on the ground and give him a crooked smile. "...And so be able to _survive_ and _excel_."

* * *

In the end he had no choice. In the end he _had_ to leave _everything_ behind. And when referring to everything, it was _everything_. The pressure and danger that had weighed on him thanks to those rumors, the possibility of being imprisoned and put on trial where they would mark him as a monster without having the opportunity to defend himself and end up executed by the same fire that he was capable of creating, still without understanding how and why... All of this made him cling to the rope that the lion had stretched out to him to escape the quagmire that was on the way to being lost. An opportunity to escape that fate... Entering a world he had seen from afar and never thought would remotely enter, definitely not out of interest.

And yes, Zenox was aware that this opportunity offered him wasn't by fought against a monster, but for his strange power. He might be shy, but not silly: If it weren't for that supernatural ability, they would have congratulated him for his great courage, that's it; They had chosen him for that power, and the benefits he could give to the hunters' guild where Mr. Simba belonged. It was all a simple relationship of interest, something Zenox knew perfectly well, but not by Oswald and Darkwing, but from the time he had started to offer himself as a working pawn in exchange of coins or food.

Pure mutualism, but in this case spattered with blood and fire.

He had accepted the proposal and had left with the imposing lion, but unlike the black rabbit, the orange cabbit wasn't allowed to get his own equipment for this new life, with Simba telling him to better keep his savings for when he arrived in the territory where the 'brotherhood' was_. "Even with the impressive power you have, you are quite a rookie,"_ Simba had sentenced with gravity, putting a claw in the small chest of the cabbit, _"So you will learn, starting from below, like everyone. There we'll give you what you need to start, at least."_

Zenox had agreed to everything, putting all his savings, now in paper (The cabbit was impressed by how the lion had taken him to a bank and changed his entire coin box into printed paper... Simba had explained to him that It was called _'paper money'_ and that the value was equivalent to the small pile of coins Zenox had left behind), which, although he didn't fully understand it, Zenox had to admit that it was much more comfortable, and just rolling it inside dirty rags. The only expense he had been allowed was a hat to protect his head, as well as a cheap compass. He had also asked for parchment and feathers, but Simba told him that in the guilds there's a lot of paper.

So Zenox had to take with him was his old school notebook that he still had from his years with Emily, as well as a small piece of charcoal that he had found at Tapper's. Only with that could he write to Oswald, to Ortensia... And to Felix, who Zenox also left behind.

At first he had asked shyly and had ended up almost begging with tears about to fall. Felix couldn't go with him, where they had to go they didn't allow _'mundane people'_ and also was dangerous place for them... Zenox, distressed and upset, was about to reject the offer when he felt the hand of his friend on his shoulder, making him look at him.

Felix didn't protest; He gave her a sad smile and spoke in a low voice: "Zen, you must go; If you stay, it won't take long for the church to catch you... It's better if that is going to keep you safe... Because if we go somewhere else, what would happen if that power manifests again? We should always be running away... And _that's_ not fair, _not_ for you."

"But... _But_... What _about_ you...?" The cabbit stuttered in a thin voice. The cat grimaced.

"Here is my work, and although I hate to admit it, I would not want to leave Mr. Budd Fludd when he has taught me a lot and says he has plans for me... It is, as we would say, the...

"…_Providence_."

Zenox watched the town limits from the carriage that Simba and Zazú had ordered, holding back the urge to cry, repeating that he would write to Felix on one of the old sheets of his school notebook, praying fervently to keep himself safe and to be able to return.

**…**

The winter passed and tender green shoots emerged from the remains of snow. The campfire was slightly greenish in color due to the wet wood, and the four men were sitting on the beach sand, waiting for the fish to finish roasting.

Storkules had spent the rest of the winter trying to teach Oswald the so-called 'honorable way', showing him some moves to be able to disarm _("Honestly, Storkules, you could disarm even a giant with your bare hands"_ Darkwing replied) or show him that he could fight honorably...

But in truth, Oswald had long realized that fair play didn't exist, much less honor among monster hunters: Survive and excel, as his master said almost as if it was a mantra; use the elements of the environment to attack or escape, tear joints and break bones. Along with Storkules' 'honorable fight', Darkwing showed him how to kill an opponent (mainly thieves who wanted to steal something from Phil's training camp) with his own knife _"to make him see how a huge idiot in front of his buddies with blows to the face, throat or kidneys."_ the mallard said. Aside from the logs and stones Oswald had to collect for Phil, the hunter had shown him how to steal resources and items from some creatures that used weapons like centaurs or goblins for his benefit, something Oswald still kept some of his old 'thief talent'... Everything to achieve his goal and continue his mission, without any mercy. The rest of the time was going through the old bestiary books Phil kept in his home, aided by comments from both Darkwing and Storkules about them.

...And even after all that, the young "_acolyte_" was amazed that he had time to read and write letters, even if it were for a few minutes before he collapsed on the mat, just listening to the snoring of Darkwing, Phil and Storkules, like this like the cries of crickets and the quiet sound of the ocean.

**TBC**

* * *

**Author's Note**

**(1)** Leech gatherer or hunter was indeed a profession dating back to Roman times, but it was booming in the 19th century in many areas of Europe and Asia, due to the belief that many illnesses were in the blood.

**(2)** The _quintain_ was a medieval exercise of cavalry that was carried out armed with a spear or long sword, and that consisted of hitting a mannequin mounted on a shaft, representing an opponent, and holding a stick in the middle of the trunk. If it received an incorrect blow, the mannequin would turn on itself and hit the clumsy knight.

**(3)** Absinthe is an alcoholic beverage made from herbs, originally sold as an elixir and later as a popular drink, to the point of being considered a symbol of the so-called "Belle Epoque" (the period between 1871 to 1914). It was highly controversial from the start, accused of causing hallucinations. "Pernod Fils" was the most popular absinthe brand.

**(4)** Another name for absinthe was _"Green Fairy"_ due to its composition and coloring.

**(5)** _Akolouthos_: "Acolyte" in Greek.


	17. Dead Man's Hand

**XVII**

**Dead Man's Hand **

_"Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah, Zip-A-Dee-Ay,  
My, oh, my, what a wonderful day,  
Plenty of sunshine headin' my way,  
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah, Zip-A-Dee-Ay..."_

Ortensia hummed as she poured the ammonium nitrate solution to dissolve well, having tried it with a few aphids in a glass box as her _"test subjects_". She had been mired in the assigned task that she had almost forgotten a meeting with some of her new companions was pending. She left the solution at rest, stretching from her stool, making a hippo yawn; It had been nine months since her arrival and she had never had so much work since classes in the town. She stared at the window, where apart from a vase of marigolds, there were some vessels with purifications and an old cobweb.

Queens College was an imposing structure on Harley Street. The Gregorian decor and extensive gardens were far superior to the architecture of the Sunday school or the homes of her richest teachers. Her father had said that he hoped that she wouldn't become too cultured a woman because, according to him: _"That surely would shame a gentleman and you must attract him, not repel him."_, and that he hoped she would learn enough about manners and etiquette to impress the guests. Certainly, Ortensia took classes in etiquette, music, dance and poetry... But she kept her internal promise, enrolling to study intensively both botany and chemistry when she arrived in the capital and settled at her aunt's house, located in east London, agreeing that Mrs. Tweed would stay as provisional cook at her aunt's house during the months that Ortensia was at school, meeting on weekends that they could go out for walks and shopping.

The young Whiskers had found to her delight materials and teachers that fulfilled her aspirations, as well as specific implements and spaces for the care of plants. She almost got dizzy from the excitement of seeing a greenhouse for the first time, even fantasizing that when she had her own house, she would save up to have one. Although she had been embarrassed by how primitive her knowledge was compared to this school, she knew she had to catch up, learn as much as she could, not only to be able to do that, but also to send all possible help to Oswald, Felix and Zenox with everything they could learn and create; She had immersed herself in both pure and applied botany, frequently going to the library to continue writing down ideas from **_"De causis plantarum" _(1) **until dinner time... It was surprising that with all classes and extracurricular activities she had signed up for (Yes, she was overly excited), she still had some time to hang out with some of the girls in her class, even if it was for homework.

"To be Romanian, you speak English pretty _well_," A blonde with long hair murmured, known for being the only American in the group, keeping her little finger stretched while drinking tea, "I understand that they are quite there... _Highlanders_?"

"We're close to the Urals, Miss Northwest, so you could say yes," replied the female cat almost indolently., "And it is undoubtedly a great bulwark of specimens to study."

"And it shows... What you wear is definitely _not_ patchouli," the girl, Pacifica, repeated, with a slight grimace. "What scent is... _That_?"

"Oh, it's Neem **(2). **It smells great after the rain, I'm experimenting to make Ammonium Nitrate with Neem to make an environment friendly insecticide for both farmers and city growers."

"...Well, at least it's not iron or blood seen in the stables... Ugh, I'm sensitive to those smells," Miss Piggy muttered, shaking her head, making some of the girls laugh.

**...**

It had been inadvertent. And she wished she had _never_ done it, because she hadn't only squeezed her heart, but also realized what she really was as a friend.

It was the big day: After months of practice, the long-awaited presentation had arrived for the emperor and the chancellor, as well as the noblest of the Germanic kingdom. She was already prepared, she had the scores ready for an impeccable act... And she was infinitely grateful that, apart from the music tutor, William was able to accompany her along with Constance, since her parents, once again, hadn't been able to come see her due to their _"endless businesses"_ ... A way of saying it without feeling so bad for always being displaced by junk and opium.

Although she was passing out from an explosion of craving, fear and desire to do her best, a strange stinging wouldn't leave her alone ... And itching had begun to show its ugly head, like a viper on the grass, one afternoon that they were free to be outside the academy:

_Clinging to a sheet music book she had to practice for a class on Monday, Emily had left the academy to look for William in the town, who had returned from a trip to Cuba to finish his plans to dedicate himself to being "a land navigator". When she got to the pub where he always stayed, she saw Constance sitting at the bar, playing with something in her hands. Seeing her, Constance had made a beaming smile._

_"You've come at a very good time, Em, because I want to tell you that Will is going to give me her favorite emerald, don't you think it would look great on the pearl necklace?" Constance was saying, waving her pearl necklace, which she used everywhere, even to sleep._

_Emily raised her eyebrows: The emerald that always wore the front of his suit, which also from what he had told her, was the only memory of her deceased grandmother...? Could that mean...? She looked into her friend's bright eyes, waiting for an answer: "Oh, it's great, Constance. You know that jewelry is something very special to William."_

_"Oh, I know, I know~ Since I saw it, it seemed incredible to me, and more when imagining it combined with my necklace: God, it would even look like one of the jewels of Marie Antoinette!_

_"Of that I have no doubt," she had murmured with a lump in her throat..._

Now, standing behind the curtain that separated her from the opera auditorium, already full for this occasion, she was nervous, she couldn't deny it. Despite everything she had practiced, day and night, her hands were shaking. She breathed deeply to calm herself, resting her hands on her agitated chest: She was going to have a good presentation, she had to do it for the emperor, by the effort of her tutor... For them.

_"Good luck, Emily!"_

"William..." she mused, turning back to see the big deer smiling in front of her, making her smile too, more when she saw a huge bouquet of sunflowers in his hands... She blushed. "But _how_...?"

"Constance told me these are your favorites and I wanted to make sure. And it really fits you for that beautiful blue dress you wear: When you play the piano or when you are simply there for everyone, you are as _radiant_ as a sunflower."

Emily's blush increased, her heart pounding, clutching the bouquet of flowers, tied by a beautifully adorned blue ribbon. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling a sudden calm. She opened her eyes and smiled at the sailor with her mouth and heart. "...Thank you for being here, William. It really means _a lot_ to me."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. Not every day you go to play for their majesties, huh? Just think about what will come next, it will be glorious!"

"...That makes me feel better, _since_ my parents..."

"Say no more, my dear. Don't think about that." William interrupted warmly. "Just think of you today, that Constance is here... And me too."

The female deer's heart was leaping from her chest and shooting out. Her insides were yelling at her to tell him, to at least try... Even though she already knew the possible result: "Constance was the chosen one, he gave her her grandmother's emerald, I shouldn't, I shouldn't ..." "... William, I..."

"Fräulein DeClaire **(3), **are you ready? The Kaiser is already in his spot, eager to see you!" A voice said behind the curtain: Her music tutor. Emily made an effort not to put on a frustrated face.

"Go, my dear. We will be supporting you from the general spot, although Constance was insisting that we should have been in the main one." And the sailor laughed uncomforted, approaching Emily and taking her hands. They were warm... The young woman was forgetting how to breathe... "A _small gesture_ of good luck on my part."

...And as he reached out to kiss her cheek, Emily made an abrupt movement to avoid it, causing William to kiss the corner of her lips, making her heart look like a crazed locomotive engine... It had felt so soft and so warm, and Emily wasn't the only one thinking about it: William moved slightly away from the young DeClaire and looked at her strangely, languidly... In a way that the seconds that passed were full of unbearable tension. Feeling her throat closing, Emily felt a calloused hand was taking her chin and making her move slightly towards...

_"Fraulein!"_

"It's time for my presentation, you must go, William," she murmured, turning away from the sailor, her voice almost trembling. The deer cleared his throat and backed away, trying to hide the reddish tint from his cheeks. The young DeClaire addressed her tutor, who gave her a quick sermon with the last instructions, which passed like a rush in her mind... Just like the lights in the exquisite room, already full of aristocrats and high dignitaries, all looking at the small stage where the grand piano was waiting, with the scores already in place. Standing in front of it and looking at those present, almost without listening to the words of her tutor when presenting it to the public.

Her fingers flew at the keys as if they had a life of their own, while her mind was engulfed in what would begin to be a very painful internal struggle.

* * *

"She is an extremely talented young lady. There is no doubt that even the rigid chancellor is impressed." One of the Prussian nobleman present said, but he was looking at a doe that was certainly not the pianist, but one that was sitting next to a sailor, and who didn't stop of fiddling with a striking pearl choker adorned with a huge emerald in the center... And she was _also_ glancing at him.

**...**

With the arrival of autumn, just like migrating birds, once he was 'mature' enough, Oswald had to leave the warm Greek plains (Storkules almost cried when he returned to Itaquack, saying he wouldn't forget them, while Phil asked him to be in contact because _"you were the most interesting candidate after my beloved 'champion', Hercules… I hope I don't hear that you were annihilated by a stone in the head like the last clown who ended up here believing that he could with a colossus."_) ...As well as the magnificent view of the Aegean Sea to go back into the dense forest of the East, bordering Romania and going further and further north... And, therefore, getting colder. The duck and the rabbit, both with coats and scarves, began to traverse the thick forests of the Black Forest, going like stowaways on trains or escorting carts on trade routes. All the way the black rabbit was dedicated to digging, hunting and fighting, either against a bear to take advantage of their meat or with a wandering monster that was ravaging the most remote town, looking for coins or something of value in return.

Now with a quiver of his own and a pair of obsidian daggers, Oswald felt more confident than at first with just a pistol, which he always had on his belt, like a true cowboy of the North American Wild West, but fused with a warrior of the mountains, crouched in the deepest caves, waiting for any prey to fall into a trap or into his field of vision. While he felt stronger and more confident than his self from over a year ago, he still had a lot to learn... Especially when fighting multiple monsters at once... Or when Darkwing beat him up when he wanted to "_use_" him as his sparring.

Darkwing still didn't reveal much more about his family, much less about the so-called 'ancestral home', always receiving that Oswald hadn't yet fulfilled his part of the deal and that he must be patient because _"although bitter, patience will give the tastiest fruits",_ as the mallard had said with sufficiency... It was true that Oswald, understandably, had come to express being fed up with this _'game'_... To which Darkwing would coldly reply:

"Well, you can go if you want. You will tell me how to return to your town by your own means after only a few months of being away, and worse in the middle of winter..."

Every time he heard that, Oswald clenched his jaws and stayed... But it wasn't just for convenience, and he hated to admit it, but Darkwing was right: He was going to get lost in the winter. And besides of the desire to know more about his family, but there was also a pride reason: He didn't want to leave this halfway, not when he had learned things that would have been useful in his street past... And he also felt that, with this, could help those who were in danger, especially those who were important to him... And clinging to the Saint Benedict's medallion always hanging around his neck, Oswald _remembered_ the silent promise made to Ortensia and Mrs. Tweed...

...And that was a promise that he was determined to follow, even if he has to follow an undoubtedly arrogant and eccentric mentor with his presentations about himself when facing an enemy... And who can be extremely cruel when torturing and executed someone, sometimes in unusual ways, such as the occasion when they caught a bandit in a caravan of merchants that he and Oswald had followed into the northern Austro-Hungarian Empire, Darkwing had bound him hand and foot to the ground and literally killed him by tickling, making him laugh to death from suffocation between excruciating howls and horrible sounds when trying to breathe...

...Although Oswald was no longer surprising him, having lived through violence and pure cruelty in many ways from a young age, that still _didn't_ stop giving him a feeling of apprehension: If it wasn't the monsters slaughtering mortals, the mortals themselves were butchering each other for multiple reasons... And he had to accept that and dock with it, not to go _crazy_.

* * *

They had arrived in a town near the city of Warsaw, first entering, of course, the busiest bar in the place, both of them surprised by the same situation, but for different reasons:

For Oswald, it was the first time that they had come to a bar that besides the bartender serving liters and liters of alcohol, the smell of spices floating in the air in an attempt to mask tobacco smoke or beer vomits... But also by the group of women dressed in very ornate dresses, with glitters and feathers... And very short skirts, which allowed them to see their knees. The women, lined up on a dais, danced, raising their legs synchronously, to applause and screams from the people when they saw nothing but lace underwear in plain sight between the legs covered by stockings with garter belts **(4).** Oswald blushed furiously and turned away, concentrating better on drinking his mug of hot spiced beer, still feeling the burning on his cheeks as he drank without pause. Where the hell had he gotten himself into? ...And even feeling ashamed and mentally apologizing to Ortensia, the black rabbit looked askance at the dancers: There he noticed that Darkwing had approached the dancer who was in the center: An attractive and young female bear with blond hair and yellow eyes, who stared at the mallard without stopping dancing... When they finished amid thunderous applause, the rabbit approached to hear the conversation that the old hunter apparently had with the female dancer.

"...you were kicked out so soon of _Le Chat Noire_ **(5) **that you now offer shows in Prussia, Miss Rock?"

"Oh, I do just like you and the other specialists in '_monster meat'_: I diversify my talent and therefore my _earnings_," the woman said with an insinuating smile, bending down from the dais and running a gloved finger under the Darkwing's beak, _playfully_... And the duck was _allowing_ her, to the perplexity of the rabbit. "...What a lovely coincidence we have had, we must celebrate. I have wine in my dressing room, do you have that _powerful_ _corkscrew_ that you always carry with you...?"

Oswald hadn't the slightest idea what that meant... But something told him that it was better not to ask. He heard Darkwing bark a dry laugh: "Ah, darling, we're old enough for that, my 'enthusiasm' is not the same since I left for war and now came with my apprentice for possible... _Business_."

"Ah, first duty and _then_ pleasure... _Better_ if you have both." The woman's smile increased when she saw the two gold coins that Darkwing held out to her, taking them with a delicate flourish of her hand, then she fixed her gaze on the little rabbit that looked at them from behind, as if he didn't know what to say. "Nice to meet you little apprentice, I am Sharee Rock, one of the best divas on this continent... Surely you have heard of me."

"...I'm sorry. I had _no_ idea." Oswald replied with a puzzled frown... Sharee Rock's mischievous expression turned into a grimace. Beside her, Darkwing was holding back his laughter, clutching his 'acolyte' by the shoulders, saying _"don't waste the time on the charming artist."_ Sharee Rock snorted:

"Uff, God will know from which lost town you got this boy, but well, about what you came to, Darkwing: These days there have been hunter meetings playing at the tables over there... Maybe you're lucky. Now I must go."

"_Au revoir, madam_," Darkwing replied with a smile and a bow from his hat... But Oswald caught the sarcasm in his voice. The showgirl shook her head and left, offended. Oswald just blinked and looked at Darkwing with an expression of _'Now what did I do?'_ that he had done to his mentor several times before... Darkwing rolled his eyes: "You didn't do anything, kiddo. Miss Sharee sometimes forgets the space beyond the dais where she sings. Not exactly an intellectual, but she is 'popular' among hunters, she likes them, but a lot." And he laughed at his own words. Oswald still didn't understand. "...Some women are attracted to the 'dangerous'... It is better not to get too involved about it, I tell you... Now" He grabbed Oswald's shoulders and dragged him to the other side of the premises, where they were round tables and there were people playing cards between piles of chips, coins... And pistols and daggers. "How much do you know about poker, kiddo?"

* * *

_"...That's the cursed move, pal."_

...Oswald had tensed as he noticed the sudden change in environment the moment that group of five cards were shown on the table; Although he had tried to refuse because he had no idea of poker (he had seen it in bars, but not until now he hadn't paid attention to it), but he ended up looking at the cards trying to remember how that worked thanks to the lightning explanation that Darkwing gave him, who looked at his deck of cards with an almost abstracted expression with one hand and drank whiskey with the other... The one in front took from his brown cloak no less than a golden arrow, placing it between the pile of chips.

"Very well, the one who got an _Imperial Flower_ **(6)** will get this golden arrow that I won in a tournament, are you encouraged, gentlemen?" Oswald said nothing, but Darkwing replied:

"Is a silver pair okay with you? I just spent the last gold I had with a showgirl... And I think it was a bad idea."

The one who had placed the arrow, a red fox in green clothes and hat adorned with a red feather, smiled slyly at the mallard, speaking in a British accent. "Certainly, my friend. A single gold coin would help a hundred poor people in one day, don't you think?

...And then, a couple of moves later, Darkwing had two Aces, two Eights, and the Joker, so the silence at the table was as sudden as it was strange, at least to Oswald... But the one next to the fox, a huge brown bear, also dressed in green, and wearing the same hat as the fox, had said: "That's the cursed move, pal. **(7)**."

Oswald looked both ways, preparing to drop the cards to throw himself under the table and draw his dagger... He glanced sideways at his master: Darkwing had leaned back in his chair, watching the 'cursed move' with raised eyebrows.

"...It _hasn't_ been long since that game with the good Wild Billy and he's already reached this lost corner of the world..." He looked down for a moment and smiled wryly: "_Unless_ someone crosses the wall behind me to _shoot_ me in the head, we could use this to break the ice."

Oswald stared at him without understanding a word, but the fox laughed happily next to the bear, as did the others around him, as if they had heard a good joke. The fox leaned forward. "...And _just_ when we were thinking of doing a trick to you, but this was unexpected, don't you think, Little John?"

"Hehe, certainly Robin, better than the occasion of the magic dice," the bear said, rising from the table, offering a huge paw to the duck. "How about we show up and play something lighter to get to know each other?"

"I agree, what do you think, pal: Billiards?" The fox asked Oswald, extending his hand. "Robin Hood at your service."

Oswald hesitated a moment, then returned the squeeze. "Oswald Van Helsing, it's a pleasure."

* * *

"Heavens, we went from one surprise to another," Robin Hood said, bending over the table to accommodate the colored balls inside the wooden triangle. "...A Van Helsing poking his head out after years of silence; That would be very useful to us, don't you guys think?"

"Hey Robin, you're already starting to look for people for a 'guild', you have to think a little about things," Little John replied shaking his heads. Darkwing waiting his turn to 'start' because of his poker play, he growled under his breath almost... Menacingly.

"Yes, because the guilds aren't that they are something interesting to unite, frankly, not with so much dirt that they have on top and stain everything."

"I guess you're lone wolves then, that is not surprising." Little John said, scratching his head. "Many hunters are."

"You guys are hunters?" Oswald asked, pointing to ball number 7, watching it bounce a few inches from the hole, to his frustration. Robin Hood lowered the glass of cider he was drinking and made a cunning expression.

"Just me and my dear partner in crime, Little John, but locally. My other comrades are dear friends from our hometown who are accompanying us on a mission."

"... A mission that has to do with something that might interest you, my children," Another bear added and who was the one that stood out the most because he was a friar. Seeing that Little John was going to protest, he continued: "…Perhaps that is why God put you in our way."

"...Depends on what you're looking for, gentlemen," Darkwing replied making his move with the last ball, the eight.

"...How about a pathetic fallen king who has been associated, according to rumors, with some kind of group associated as well with vampires?" Robin Hood ventured with aplomb.

And the fox paused dramatically, no doubt waiting for the effect of his words. Both Oswald and Darkwing straighted up at the same time. Oswald lowered his glass of beer, frowning.

"...A group that is associated with vampires, that's something I've seen before. Can you tell us more?" The rabbit ask. Darkwing shot him a sideways glance, but said nothing. The bear priest, who introduced himself as Friar Tuck, explained:

"...We came from Nottingham, there we had a wimp named John, who seized the crown when his brother, the great king Richard, was in the wars... Oh, that lion with his adviser and his tax collector bled our town to poverty... But God put our good Robin Hood, blessed be, to strip the rich to give to the poor."

"Come on, Friar, I just did what is right... what anyone would do." The fox replied, gesturing. "...We went through many things, they tried to kill me like Friar Tuck himself, but in the end King Richard returned and imposed order, arresting John and his assistants to do forced labor... Until a few months ago."

"_Let_ _me_ guess: Your _fake _king got away and now you're chasing him to get him to the justice, right?" Darkwing ventured. Little John shook his head, huffing.

"The very bastard (My apologies, Father, hehe) had escaped to France. According to what we have found out through some contacts in Paris, there he was seen being approached by a kind of group of 'religious' people. Apparently they embarked for the eastern mountains because they are looking for a vampire..."

"...The _only_ vampire known to that area, according to the latest rumors of trade routes, is an old female vampire with a thirst for jewelry." Darkwing interrupted him dryly, seeing the surprised face of those present, the hunter duck continued: "I don't know her name yet, but she is someone that merchants mention a lot lately."

"...The dummy king John was a magpie: Any jewel was for him and only him," Robin Hood said, narrowing his eyes. "It's possible that he would try to win over that vamp with promises of jewels from King Richard in exchange for...?"

"For _power_ that she may give him? It's possible," Oswald exclaimed with aplomb. The others stared at him... The rabbit took a deep breath. "...If you say that your 'fake king' was approached by a group of people associated with vampires, then they will surely seek through him a way to cause chaos in your country... There was a group of them wreaking havoc in the town where I lived, killing many people… but those damned ones committed suicide before we caught them…" And he lowered his voice. Darkwing continued for him:

"...It's _possible_ that this group that is with your fugitive is related to that of my apprentice's little town... So I do think it is something that would interest us..." He had not finished saying that when Little John slapped his shoulder powerfully, nearly knocking the mallard to the ground.

"Well said, pal! We just need hunters who know what hornets' nest they are going to get into and not just for the gold! Certainly King Richard has promised us a reward, but we need help from hunters whom knows well the continent... We'll be like our little Guild and...!"

"Oh no, _NOTHING_ of guilds or that bullshit!" Darkwing replied through his teeth with a harshness and a hatred tone that Oswald had never heard him use before... The mallard, apparently noting the gaze not only of his acolyte, but also from Robin Hood's group, cleared his throat: "...Ahem, I mean, not so much a guild, but a... Temporary association."

"...Okay, if you say so." The fox finally replied after a few seconds of silence, looking at his group. "...In that case, there are other things that must be discussed for this... Temporary association, as you say."

"Oh yeah? _Where?"_ Oswald asked suspiciously. The friar approached to smile at him kindly.

"Join us, my sons. We are setting up on the outskirts with a warmer atmosphere... Because here there's a lot of noise, but also a lot of ears."

* * *

As they walked to the makeshift camp of Robin and his friends, located on the outskirts of Warsaw, Oswald looked at his mentor apprehensively, why the duck had that reaction towards the guilds' mention? While talking to the fox and learning more about Nottingham and especially the Sherwood forest, the rabbit took the opportunity to ask the mallard when they were tying the mules in a tree. Darkwing, without looking at him, replied:

"...I'm _not_ going to give you a _lecture_ on _why_ I haven't been involved with them for a long time. You yourself will come into contact with many... And therefore, with their hive mentality made of lone wolves."

"There was a guild in Sighiosara, they left before that vampire arrived," Oswald said, remembering that dilapidated place, "they said that nobody hired them anymore because there were no monsters... And look what happened."

Darkwing finally looked at him, giving a crooked smile. "Hunters go where there is work, and that happens with any kind of job." Oswald was silent, staring at the ground... So would it always be like this? Constantly having to travel where there would be 'work'? That certainly wouldn't be good if he wanted to be close to his friends and close to... The mallard leaned his wing on the rabbit's shoulder, patting, "Better to know now than when finally happens to you."

"...I suppose it's true," Oswald murmured the moment that Alan-A-Dale, a troubadour rooster who was friends with Robin Hood, called them to try the stew by the bonfire.

**...**

Felix watched the sunset reflected from the waters of the Black Sea, right at the same point where Oswald had been several months before.

Ever since everyone had left and he had been left alone like at the beginning of his arrival at that horrible orphanage, the black cat had clung to the letters like a talisman while continuing to sell useless objects to credulous people, to the delight of his 'godfather', as Budd Fludd had proudly designated himself, telling him that he intended to expand beyond _"a lost village that produces nothing but wood; one must seek other horizons, young Sullivan... Because of how agile you have been in parcels, it's time for us to go to other... __Horizons."_

...That was what had made him stay in Sighiosara a little longer, after the departure of Zenox in that simple carriage towards the northwest roads, because Felix knew perfectly well that he couldn't depend on Zenox, much less Oswald to get ahead. Yes, the three of them were friends and Felix begged to the being from above to allow them to continue being so, but he also knew that they had already chosen which path to take now that they were in the autumn of childhood... And now he also had to do it now: Convince people, get information, look for objects ... All of these were reminiscences of his past as a reformed rogue, now used for something more _'useful and lucrative'_ without the risk of having his hands destroyed by an axe in a public square.

So a few weeks after Zenox left and the town was still boiling with rumors of the "demonic boy on fire," Felix Sullivan gave his last payment to Mr. Tapper and left the ramshackle room he had shared with Oswald and Zenox since they were twelve years old... Three years in iron beds with sheets that were too thin and old. He had to admit that he was afraid, even with all the savings at hand, now exchanged for that curious 'paper money', and traveling alone without his friends.

_"You've survived the street, the cold, the thugs and the hunger without wasting your nine lives yet, Sullivan... __You can handle this!"_

And throwing a cloth sack over his shoulder, Félix left with Budd Fludd to the east of the country, in search of the sea, to take a boat (being the second time in the life of the black cat to take one) to cross the immense Black Sea. From the bow, he was able to see the distant lands of Turkey, where his temporary home would be for now and for the rest of winter. Budd Fludd had approached the cat and rested his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"...Whale fat is the energy source of these times... According to the obtuse mediocre who stayed in their comfort zone. No, Felix. You have to adapt, you have to look for new horizons... and that is oil."

"...I _still_ think that looks like liquid horse shit for eating just carrots," Felix murmured, looking at the bottle full of thick black liquid that the dog was showing him with disgust. Budd Fludd barked a dry laugh.

"It will be the shit you want, but it's the one that will make us rich... If the damned Scrooge McDuck could do it, then I can also get on that train."

"And how shall we do that, sir?" Felix asked at last, wanting to know his place in all this. Budd Fludd made a sly smile.

"..._We'll_ get on the train with Flintheart Glomgold as the driver, my dear apprentice."

**…**

"...Our fake king is hidden in a kind of abandoned mansion north of here, reaching the edge with Russia... According to what this wretch has told us," Robin Hood said showing them what was tied to a tree next to the tent: A vulture that had his wings spread out and tied behind it while he kept moaning in pain. Both Darkwing and Oswald raised their eyebrows. "This is Nutsy... And yes, it's as silly as being captured in France, isn't it, Nutsy?" Robin whispered in a threatening tone to the vulture, who swallowed hard.

"Then he is the one guiding us to where your fugitive is... And therefore, to the leech," Darkwing interjected, bending down to examine the vulture as if hw was a laboratory specimen. "Did he tell you already how to get there?"

"...It was only a matter of making a ki-kiri-kí all over his ear to make him give in... It's as silly as his name," Alan-A-Dale replied proudly, waving a scroll of parchment. "It's a mansion at the foot of a fairly rugged chain of snowy mountains, we checked the maps and it matches, so..."

"...We will have to get down from it to access the fortress of his _overthrown_ Majesty," Oswald said, looking at the drawing that the rooster had made, also looking at the possible chained lists. He raised his head to see the fox. "How will we get there? Trains to the border..."

"Ah, that's easy," Robin exclaimed, and taking a grimy brown cape, he put it on him and put on dark glasses on top, finishing with an equally patched hat and a cane. "...No foreman gorilla is going to _deny_ _a poor blind man_ a coin while his friends sneak up behind."

Both Oswald and Darkwing _just_ blinked.

* * *

It took time and more than one attempt to board a heavily loaded train towards the Tsarist Russia border, but in the end Robin Hood's group had climbed into the middle of the train, all with rags to cover their faces to hide their identities... As well as not to inhale coal during the whole journey of an entire night towards the border, where, to get off from there, they would have to do what Darkwing recommended: Hold on to the irons under the train... Well, the little ones were able to do that, while Little John and Friar Tuck, due to their sizes, hid themselves among the machinery... Oswald would _undoubtedly_ tell his friends how he ended up with numb arms and hands so as not to fall off the train in full motion, as they went deeper and deeper into snowy territory.

After several days wandering around and asking some villagers about any vampires or strange creatures that were in the area, the group reached the top of the mountain range, a steep and sloping circle full of pines and rocks; Robin 'released' the vulture Nutsy (or rather, let him fly with a very long rope tied to his leg) with a warning:

"You run away from the rope and no matter how high you fly, I will be ready to knock you down and this time it will be on your head," the fox told him in a low voice, making the vulture swallow hard and nod vehemently. You will tell us what you see from there, and if you scream for your master, say goodbye to your wings."

"Of-of course Mr. Robin, ple-please not kill... Aaaah!" And Little John tossed him up like a ball and rising like a monstrous living kite; While Friar Tuck held the rope, Oswald stretched the bow up, listening to the fox's advice.

"Are this leaning position okay, Mr. Hood?"

"Come on, pal, just tell me Robin. _'Mr. Hood'_ was my father, may he rest in peace." Robin replied, chuckling. "And yes, you do very well, Oswald... Hehe, you lean the bow much like my older son does."

"Oh! Do you have children?" Oswald asked in surprise. Robin smiled proudly.

"Two dozen in the ten years with my dear Marian, who is waiting for me at home!" the fox exclaimed, also with the bow ready to shoot. "There is nothing better than when you return from work, whatever it is, there is good food, and a good woman's smile, do you understand?"

"Well... Yes, you could say that." The rabbit muttered, feeling a warmth in his cheeks that had nothing to do with the vodka that Darkwing had made him drink to 'fight the cold.' The fox looked at him with a sly smile.

"...I know that look, it's the one that Little John has every time he talks to Lady Kluck, the only thing is missing is stop talking and drop the beer mug... Is there _someone_ like _that_ in your life?"

"Well... Yes. She saved my life on one occasion. She is my friend, a very pretty girl as well as intelligent, much more intelligent than me." Oswald said in a low voice with a slight smile. The fox smiled knowingly.

"It sounds like my dear Marian; it sounds _like_ her... And if she has been your beloved despite your job, then she is the one." Robin said with aplomb. Seeing the strange face of the rabbit, he explained: "I _don't_ mean that this job is dangerous because _it_ _is_, but that the woman who manages to tame a hunter (which is _not_ easy, _believe_ me~) must be someone who understands that world and agrees to be part of it."

Oswald was silent for a moment, lost in thought.

He had already been communicating with Ortensia through letters for over a year. He kept each and every one of the manuscripts within the grimoire, rereading them when he and his mentor stopped to rest, either in an inn or at the foot of a tree contemplating the stars. In them, Ortensia told about the institute and her classmates, the experiments and discoveries she had made, while Oswald told her about the training, about the things he saw... And both made it clear how much they missed a lot the other. The black rabbit had felt a mixture of emotion when seeing the sweet words that she composed for him... And at the same time frustration not only for his still crooked handwriting, but also his lack of imagination when trying to emulate those expressions of affection... And _love_.

That made the female black cat appear even among his dreams. Oswald had read, while living with Emily, legends of religious who, in the midst of their desert retreats, experienced an apparition of the Holy Virgin, to whom they dedicated beautiful hymns and poems... In his dreams, the young man appeared in the fog, always smiling and with a song on her lips... Approaching him while he was leaning against a tree, placing her delicate pianist hands on his burning cheeks, feeling her warm _weight_ on his body, _rigid_... And then the rabbit woke up with a pounding heart and a strange discomfort in his pants that made him run to the first available lake or pond to shower before Darkwing could see him... That's how he had been since then, and although those dreams were not common, he always woke up the same. He didn't understand what that meant, but for him it was clear that his whole being, was longing to see her as much as his friends... Although with an intensity different from Felix and Zenox... And when he thought about it he always ended up blushing and with the mallard asking him what the hell was wrong with him.

...He was in love. _Simply_. And it was a realization that released him and at the same time terrified him: Now what would happen? The letters between them followed, but when he returned from this journey that was getting longer, what would happen? Would he ask her to be a couple? Well, if you thought about it, they were already a couple, right? The kiss was what started it all... And the medallion was like the handkerchief that a lady gave her lover before going on a trip, just as the rabbit had read in some children's stories and adventure novels... Yes, the next step would be...

"...Pay _attention_ to what's below, kiddo," he heard the mallard's rough voice in his ear, making him almost jump with fright. He turned to see Darkwing's almost grim expression, scrutinizing him with his gaze... The rabbit blushed and looked down: Again Darkwing had been caught him in the clouds. Without saying a word, the duck passed him brass binoculars: "Look down there. What do you see?"

Still embarrassed, the rabbit focused with the binoculars: Down from the top, where were they from, there were... Riders on horseback? Oswald was about to ask what was odd, when focusing better, he stifled a cry: They had no head, and some were holding it on one arm while others had it behind in their saddle... Robin Hood, using a spyglass to see as well, clicked his tongue.

"Dullahans **(8), **I'm surprised to see them on the mainland, when they see each other the most is in Ireland."

Oswald looked at him: "Dulla... _what_?"

"Headless horsemen, as the common people call them. And, indeed, it is a monster seen in Lower Saxony," Darkwing snapped, rummaging through his multiple pockets. "Now the joke is knowing how to get rid of them."

"Shooting at them how we do with the bandits? They seem... ghosts. How could we beat them?" The rabbit asked. Robin Hood smirked and handed him the golden arrow he had bet on in the poker game. "The golden arrow?"

"Gold drives the Dullahan away, for some reason."

Darkwing smirked, holding a crossbow: "That and hitting them on their heads. _It's_ a target shooting game with some _backbones_."

* * *

It was as he began to descend the mountain that Oswald understood the words of his master: What he had believed to be mere whips that the headless horsemen brandished in midair, were actually backbones, to his horror; the eyes of the severed heads still gleamed in the darkness... And, therefore, possible target for the bullets and arrows soaked with molten gold. Gold melted by the few coins on hand, added to the same golden arrow launched by Little John against the largest Dullahan.

"Be careful to lose your mind, friend!" He yelled.

Thanks to a Robin Hood idea, everyone had thrown themselves off the hilltop with makeshift sleds, with Robin and Little John leading the way, the fox shooting multiple arrows in seconds, hitting the riders' heads to make them disappear. Behind them Oswald was holding two pistols, previously blessed by Friar Tuck trying to target each of them. In the same sled, Darkwing used the crossbow to knock down the riders who rode on either side of them, seeking to touch them.

"Just a touch of them and it's over, Oswald! Always in the head!" Darkwing was shouting, firing a series of ten arrows at high speed. "Lean over that side and I lean over this, so the sled is stable!"

"Take that, monster!" Oswald exclaimed, taking an accurate shot at the head of a Dullahan who jumped on them, knocking him back into the snow from his mount. Then he noticed something beyond the slope. "Sir, I see a stone and ice wall ahead!"

"It's the fortress! We're getting _closer_!" Robin Hood yelled at his side, just as he had just shot down another rider... Suddenly his eyes widened over his googles. "But what the...?!"

A ball of fire and light that emerged from the stone wall of the fortress, flew over their heads, rising like a comet and while everyone turned to see where it was going... There they saw that it had crashed on the top of the mountain... Beginning to come off little by little in a huge white river.

"AVALANCHE! COVER YOURSELF!" Alan-A-Dale howled from the sled behind.

Oswald and Darkwing, still drawn away from Robin Hood's convoy to neutralize the remaining Dullahans, watched in horror as the immense white wave was about to rush over and eat them alive. The mallard cursed and tried to maneuver the sled to turn it away from the course of the avalanche, yelling for Oswald to help him, but then the flurry of snow drowned out his words... as well as Oswald's screams. The rabbit didn't remember much of that, only feeling that it had rushed through a long, dark and icy tunnel, where every second he was hit and shaken like a rag doll without mercy... Until finally there was only silence and darkness.

**…**

...Upon opening his eyes, it was as if the world had been reduced to pure icy white and nothing else. He felt that his body couldn't react as it should, as if his limbs had been torn off, even though they were still whole and stuck to his body... A persistent feeling of heaviness and drowsiness was making him want to close his eyes for a long, _long_ time... No! He _can't_ sleep! He still has to go on...! He forced himself to move, still feeling all his muscles howling in pain as he only moved a few inches, seeing that the little white light he had just seen a few inches from him was actually a slit of light that would help him out of this coffin of snow. Slowly, he managed to stick his head out and breathe in the icy air outside.

Outside, it was all white mist and piles of snow piled up everywhere, not to mention a deathly silence that only made him shiver more than the cold of the snow itself. Looking closer, he noted to his horror that he had cut himself with some sharp rock on his right forearm, seeing a deep cut soaked in red. Panicked, Oswald squeezed it tightly, remembering that it must not become infected. Tearing off a piece of his cloak, he coiled it tightly to keep it from bleeding and looked around... Apparently the little avalanche had only buried him and... _Where_ was Darkwing?!

...Then he saw a faint golden glow among the pale snow.

Dragging himself as best he could and before even trying to scream for help or seek his mentor, Oswald took it in his hands, noting that it was a round object, like a pocket watch; looking better, he realized that it was Darkwing's compass... Exactly the one that even after a long time, the black rabbit wasn't allowed to use, for some reason... After verifying that the small arrow eternally powered by 'the invisible force' was still working, Oswald was about to put it in his pocket when he noticed something that seemed to be a small additional window inside the instrument... He slid it down with his thumb, noting that there was a daguerreotype, as if it were from a locket:

It was the portrait of a very young female duck, perhaps a couple of years younger than Oswald, but judging by the age of the photograph, she must surely be somewhat older than the black rabbit now. She had dark brown plumage and vibrant red hair that contrasted with her almond eyes of a _stunning_ green color... _Painfully_ reminding Oswald of Ortensia's green eyes... reminding him of how far he was still from her...

"Oswald!"

At the voice, which was from Robin Hood, Oswald put the compass in his coat and forced himself to stumble toward the source of the sound, noting that it was coming from old logs under a rock. As he got closer he saw that Little John, Friar Tuck and Alan-O-Dale were fine... _And_ in one corner, panting and leaning over his thigh, was Darkwing.

"Oswald, blessed are the eyes that see you!"

the priest bear exclaimed when he saw the rabbit collapse next to the small bonfire. "Rest, my son; we are all fine, thanks to the Lord."

"What... What was ... that?" The rabbit asked between gasps, hugging himself for warmth. The rooster growled:

"I'm sure Prince John must have noticed that his guard of riders was not going to be an opponent against us and decided to use a small rocket to provoke the avalanche... Are you okay?"

"Yes... I just... I cut myself... my arm. I already covered it, I'll be fine…" Oswald murmured, holding onto his forearm tightly. "If only I had poppy leaves to..."

"That won't be necessary." And Oswald was speechless when he saw Darkwing lean over beside him, noticing that on his feathered thigh was a bandage with dried blood stains. He wanted to ask him what that meant, but the mallard tugged on Oswald's arm, exposing the poorly covered wound, then tore off the piece of cloth, amid hissing pain from the rabbit. "We'll have to be quick," he muttered almost to himself as he rummaged in his pocket, pulling out the bottle of vodka he'd made him drink before. " Just don't scream."

"But that it does...? HUUUMMPH...!" Although the sudden burning in his arm was so horrible and unbearable as to make a scream worthy of causing another avalanche, Oswald couldn't do so since Darkwing had covered the rabbit's muzzle with his free hand, stifling his cry of pain. The mallard had a determined expression as he handed him a piece of leftover cloth, Oswald tearfully took it.

"Bite it if you want, but if you scream they'll discover us."

And before Oswald's stunned eyes, Darkwing was wielding a needle and a spool of thread... Two seconds later, Oswald bit down on the fabric with all his might, closing his eyes to try to think of something pleasant, something that would make him forget the image of the needle digging into his flesh and pulling the bloody skin to the other end of the wound. Every second was almost torture. Tears streamed out of Oswald's eyes as he thought of Ortensia, Felix, and Zenox to evade pain... A few minutes later, he felt a cloth on his forearm, opening his eyes: Darkwing was tying a piece of purple cloth over the wound, no doubt drawn from his cloak. Oswald couldn't see his face because of his hat. He said in a broken voice: "S-sir..."

"When there are no plants nearby, it's best to use alcohol and a needle. That's why you should always have that with you, along with your gun, water and salt. Have your gold and silver stolen, but this never." Darkwing muttered, looking up at him and grimacing. Even under the mask, he looked older than ever. Oswald wanted to say something, especially a thanks, a thanks for everything he had taught him... Until what remembering something, he rummaged in his coat.

"Sir, I found this in the snow. It's yours, right?" The rabbit asked, showing him the open compass. Darkwing hesitated for a moment, and when he extended his wing to take it, Oswald, taking advantage of this suddendly closeness and intimacy between master and apprentice, he added: "Who's the girl in there?"

Darkwing was stunned for an instant, halfway to pick up the instrument, which Oswald was still holding... The rabbit stared at him for that fraction of a second, watching a whirlwind of emotions pass at the speed of lightning through the ice blue eyes of the masked mallard.

...A heartbreaking _sadness_... And an immeasurable _anger_.

Darkwing snatched the compass from his student with reptilian speed, his pale eyes almost sparking with rage. Oswald blinked in astonishment and almost backed away, as did Robin's group, who were staring at him in puzzlement.

"It's none of your business."

"Sir?"

"I _said_ it's _NOT_ your business, Oswald!" Darkwing snapped at him. And he got up, looking away. I'll go watch outside. Wait here."

And he left the makeshift shelter, leaving everyone stunned. Oswald just stared at him with a mixture of dismay... as well as frustration.

**TBC**

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**(1)** _"De causis plantarum"_ (Περὶ φυτικῶν αἰτιῶν α'-ς' in Greek), or "On the causes of plants", is the work of the Greek philosopher and botanist Theophrastus, considered for this and the first systematic classification on plants in his work _"Historia Plantarum" _as the father of botany.

**(2)** Also is known as Neem, Marbosa or Nimbo, a tree originating in Asia and growing in tropical regions, including Africa, America and Australia, highly appreciated for its properties in agriculture as a fertilizer and in cosmetics for its oil. Yellow fruits are sweet and are safe to eat.

**(3)** _Fräulein_: "_Miss_" (Unmarried person) in German.

**(4)** The cancan or can-can is a dance that has been popular since the 1840s, continuing its popularity in the French cabaret until today. Originally danced by both sexes, it's traditionally associated with the feminine and its sensuality. Its main characteristics are the high kicks, split and various pirouettes. The most associated melody is the _"Hellish Galop of the Orpheus in Hell" _by Jacques Offenbach.

**(5)** _Le Chat Noir_ was the first famous cabaret, founded in 1881 in Paris.

**(6)** The _Imperial Flower_ (Or _Royal Flower_) is the most valuable hand in poker. It consists of the combination of the five consecutive cards of highest value (Ace, K, Q, J and 10), and must be strictly of the same suit.

**(7)** The _Dead Man's Hand_ is a considered unlucky hand in poker, made up of a double pair of aces and eights and the Joker. The origin of the legend dates back to 1876 when a well-known American gunman and player James "Wild Bill" Hickok, was assassinated by another player, Jack McCall and when he died he was holding that combination of cards. What Darkwing Duck is referring to is that "Wild Bill" was killed by McCall from behind, so he sat against a wall.

**(8)** Dullahans are both Irish and German folklore creature. Despite being classified as 'fairies', their shape is a decapitated horseman holding his head with one hand and whips made from human vertebrae with the other. A famous Dullahan is the well-known "Headless Horseman" from "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow". 


	18. Necropolis

**XVIII**

**Necropolis**

Feeling a crunch under his feet, he glanced and saw that, to his dismay, it was an elongated bone that had been broken when he stepped on it ... And as he focused his gaze below, where the land that bordered the little fortress, there were not only bones scattered on the ground, but also some elongated figures hung in nearby trees or either nailed to the ground with stakes protruding out of their mouths, placed not only in the weathered stone entrance that delimited the 'garden' of the castle, but also around... Darkwing clicked his tongue. "Very much in the style of Dragul's, but _no_ more than a _poor_ imitation."

"Is there the so-called vampire we're looking for? Madame... _whatever_ is her name?"

"Madame Medusa, kiddo." The mallard replied, giving the rabbit a sideways glance before reloading his crossbow. The rabbit also loaded his weapon, wondering how they would manage to cross the wall of skeletal and gnawed monsters, standing on the round esplanade that served as a _'entrance_.'

They had decided to wait several hours after the avalanche, not only to rest and recover, as well as to make their targets believe that they had managed to make them flee or disappear, but also to calm the spirits between the two foreign hunters of Robin Hood's group. After the hostile exchange, Darkwing and Oswald, after some soothing words from the priest bear, treated each other in a courteous manner, to _avoid_ any other confrontation in order to achieve the mission... But Oswald wasn't satisfied deep down: He was still annoyed, of course... But he was also surprised by the attitude of his mentor.

_Why_ the mallard had reacted like this to the rabbit's question? _Who_ was that girl? ...Was it _related_ to what the hunter duck had come to murmur in his dreams?

..._Because_ Oswald had reached, thanks to his sensitive ears, on some nights when he wasn't able sleep yet, some single words between the snores of the mallard when he slept; After nights in a row hearing things like_ "But mother, I don't want to go to school, King doesn't stop bothering me!", _he managed to hear Darkwing muttering a curious random sequence of colors several times... which was always the same:

_"...Yellow, blue, red, blue, purple... Blue, purple, green and yellow..."_

...And that left the black rabbit extremely confused: He had heard his friends say all kinds of _nonsense_ while they slept, especially Felix and the cinnamon and banana cakes, but when he thought of his master, especially when he remembered _that_ tormented expression in his mask... Definitely _something_ had happened between Darkwing and that girl in the compass' portrait... Maybe something _horrible_ like what happened to Fanny, Ortensia's friend...?

"...How will we _overcome_ that monstrous barrier?"

Alan-O-Dale's sudden question snapped Oswald out of his reverie: The troubadour rooster was gathering what appeared to be powders in a cloth bag, which, by the smell, Oswald could tell that it was gunpowder... It had some whitish particles badly mixed with the gunpowder, which the rabbit recognized as one of the strange chemicals that his master had in his saddlebags, used mainly to neutralize thieves in crowded places. It was precisely Darkwing who was inserting the white powder, using a cloth to cover his beak. Beside him, Robin Hood said:

"I point to one of the walls of the entrance, there they'll open the bag and it will disperse, but... We _won't_ be affected?"

"Well, we'll have to run holding our breath, Robin, just like you did when you made me believe you drowned in the castle pond," Little John replied with a grimace, looking at the strange and misshapen package, now tied with an arrow. Darkwing rubbed his hands vigorously.

"We'll wait a few seconds while the narcotic takes effect and head toward the double doors. Be prepared for what's inside... Oswald?"

The rabbit nodded: "Yes, I'll be ahead to gain ground." He said decisively. His master nodded, so Oswald got into position.

Immediately, Robin Hood raised the bow with the smoking package, throwing it away at the group of monsters, arcing over them, spilling some of the dust on them. The moment the arrow hit the ground, the smoking cloth bag exploded, making an unmistakable firecracker sound. The abominations that were next to the homemade smoke bomb began to disperse, tumbling and screaming, then began to collapse or fall to their knees. Instantly the group started running towards them, freed by Oswald, who was holding the two daggers he had, bathed in the water that Friar Tuck had just blessed. The rabbit darted toward the larger ghoul, leaping up and driving both blades into its throat, swinging them both ways to rip through flesh before it could defend itself or even move. Behind him, Darkwing fired bursts of crossbow arrows in one fluid motion. Behind them, Friar Tuck threw a bucket of holy water that, to Oswald's astonishment, burned the ghouls' greyish skin like acid, ending up being savagely beaten by Little John with his huge claws... After the "Watch out!" from the priest bear, they all turned to see Nutsy, the vulture, pointing a crossbow from the top of one of the walls of the entrance, being shot down a few seconds later by Robin, hitting him with a direct arrow to the head.

"_Oo-de-lally,_ you bloody traitor!" The fox exclaimed, lowering his bow and firing at another monster that leapt towards him. "_Now_, John!"

"I was born for this!" the hunter bear cried, running with all his might towards the stone doors, carrying a log between his claws, crashing against them and, after two blows, the metal bolts snapped out of their places, finally pushing the doors down with help of the parish priest. They all ran inside, Oswald and Darkwing last. The mentor looked at his acolyte with an unfathomable expression: Among the shattered bodies of ghouls, there was an intense smell of...

Oswald, also unsmiling, showed him the gasoline container **(1) **that he had carried with him, now dripping almost empty. "Done, sir."

"_Perfect_." Darkwing handed the rabbit a silver lighter. "Do the honors. Don't burn yourself." Oswald grimaced and took it, taking a step back and as if throwing a ball, he threw the lighter towards the stone esplanade where the bodies were, igniting everything in a matter of seconds in a kind of wall of fire, surrounding the place... Looking back at him, Oswald saw Darkwing's blue eyes glow _almost_ cruelly from the fire. "...This will give us a few seconds. Hurry up, kiddo."

Oswald said nothing, just sighed and hurried into the shadowy fortress as well, behind his master.

Inside, the darkness was sordid, barely covered by a few petrol lamps, which didn't quite cover the penetrating smell of blood around, which added to the torn tapestries, shattered furniture and bones scattered through the bare corridors... Robin Hood stifled a snort: "This doesn't sound anything like Prince John, that bastard was always looking for luxuries to cover himself in, it's as if... As if..."

"Is _not_ like himself anymore?" Friar Tuck replied dryly, who was at Oswald's side, holding a crucifix with his outstretched arm and had been murmuring Latin prayers that the rabbit did not understand.

"So killing him in order to _save_ his _rotten_ soul, there's no doubt about that," Darkwing interjected dryly as well. At that moment, they were all grouped back to back, having Friar Tuck in their midst. Oswald stood between his master and Little John, wide-eyed, waiting for any hostile move to empty the bullets just blessed by the priest. Then Robin replied:

"The fortress isn't very small, but I think we could cover by splitting up and..."

"No," Oswald interrupted in a low voice: his ears were pricked, and a serious expression was on his face, although his eyes were closed, as if he was meditating. The fox was silent, staring at him. The crushing feeling of silence spread to the stark walls, interrupted only by a few currents of icy air making the broken windows rattle. After a few seconds, Oswald opens his eyes and says in a low voice, "To the right, down the hall, there are noises... They're like grunts."

Little John growled, "Are you _sure_, little one? He, if that's the case, then we'll have a fight for a good while."

When they reached the end of the dark corridor, walking as quietly as they could, they noticed that it was a kind of inner garden, the Keep **(2)** of the castle, where the moonlight could be seen on the snow. After neutralizing a couple of guards who were noted to be in a kind of hypnotic trance _("Vampires can have slaves without direct need for the blood's slavery, but only those of high rank can do that... That makes us suppose that the Leech is near."_ Darkwing whispered to Oswald harshly, hinting that he has to be ready...), the group reached the inner esplanade of the compound, looking at what was in front of it in amazement:

_"Holy God...!"_

_"What is that supposed to be that?!"_

"Shit, hide!" And at those words they all threw themselves to the ground, remaining behind some shattered statues at the foot of some stairs that led to the center of the Keep.

In the center were a succession of bodies and heads buried in stakes, leaving the already rotten and blackened flesh exposed to the cold air. The crows, although they abounded outside the fortress, here it was as if they formed almost a cloud to peck at any piece of meat that was within reach. They were all almost petrified. Robin whispered:

"I see why the locals said we were crazy to come here. How many have failed before us?" Beside him, Little John, who had drawn a spyglass, pointed:

"Look at the bottom there: That's... The old sheriff? But... what the hell is he doing?"

Oswald took a better look: He was a big, dark-robed wolf. A quick look allowed him to verify that he was a vampire, especially when he saw him lick his lips almost noisily, revealing his fangs. He was leaning over a strange structure that was shaped... like a doll? The black rabbit was amazed and fascinated: Sure, he had seen dolls before, especially in Emily and Ortensia's houses, as well as in the windows of some stores, but this one was gigantic, like the size of a mountain troll, even surpassing Little John or Friar Tuck by two heads tall... And the expression on his painted face was terrifying, like a clown taken from Hell. And in addition, the doll was executing almost erratic movements... How could they defeat something like that? Little John gave a low grunt.

"Heavens, those automatons **(3)** make them uglier and uglier, eh? As they say, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. We should immobilize it before going to dear sheriff."

Oswald frowned as he saw the clown automaton stamping strangely... Then his gaze went to the legs, which were moving precariously on the snow, noticing with his hearing that they were vibrating as if they were going to collapse... Then he grabbed one of the ropes used to tie Nutsy and ran away, shouting from the others:

"_Wait, little one!"_

_"Oswald, what are you doing?!"_

Oswald ran like an arrow towards the legs of the monstrous doll which didn't seem to have realized the rabbit's presence... But someone did: The vampire wolf turned to where Oswald was, who was tying the rope in one of the legs of the automaton... Young Van Helsing responded by turning around and threw a white powder at the monster's face, which recoiled between howls of pain. Alan-O-Dale muttered: "What the hell is it...?"

"Yep, yep, yep, I told him to reduce garlic to powder it was a good idea," Darkwing replied, jumping into the charge with a pistol at the ready to help his acolyte. In the center, the Sheriff slapped the air with his eyes blazing red, trying to catch up with the rabbit, which was running around the giant doll's legs. At one moment to another, the contraption came to life, lighting its eyes in bright yellow, looking like a huge Jack-o'-lantern **(4) **...A small shower of arrows flew towards the head of the automaton: Robin and Alan -O-Dale brandished their bows while Little John and Friar Tuck brandished sticks high against it.

Oswald backed away as he tried to reload the pistol to aim, as the vampire Sheriff tried to scratch him again, as he had managed to reach his arm. The monster roared: "Taxes must be levied on intruders! That silver coin in your ear will be perfect for Prince John...!"

"Better this on your face!" Someone exclaimed and the Sheriff turned around, just as Darkwing hit him with two blades in the face, splattering blood. "Oswald, get out of the way!" And he continued to lash out at the wolf, striking with the blades nonstop, driving him back. Oswald moved to the side, watching Robin Hood and his friends throw burning arrows at the automaton's face, which was slapping the air, its head beginning to catch fire. The mallard dodged the Sheriff's claws, his white feathers oozing red drops as he struck and kicked the monster, which although it seemed for a moment to back away, then the Sheriff leapt to attack, almost hitting the hunter duck on the beak, causing him to stagger for a moment.

Oswald looked around frantically. He had to do something! Suddenly he saw it... Without thinking he grabbed it and ran towards them. The mallard had retreated back to the edge of one of the walls, avoiding the claws of the vampire wolf… Until a blur of black leaped out from behind, holding a stick against the Sheriff's throat, pushing back. Darkwing looked at him puzzled:

"Kiddo...?"

_"NOW!"_ Oswald yelled. Darkwing responded by crouching down at the sight of the Sheriff's torso, plunging both blades into his chest at once, making the vampire screaming in pain. Oswald dropped the stick and, without thinking, leaned forward, dug his fingers into the Sheriff's eye sockets, feeling the liquid trickle between his fingers, between deafening screams. Darkwing plunged the blades down to the handle, pushing back between clothing, fur and flesh, dissolving in streams of blood... Friar Tuck almost crossed himself when he saw them, it was as if they were trying to see who was more bloodthirsty... And after a few seconds, emboldened by adrenaline, Oswald tore out the Sheriff's eyes as Darkwing extracted the heart with his blades, already from a carcass of flesh that was collapsing in the snow, among the screeches of crows above their heads...

"Sir Hiss!" Robin exclaimed as he saw inside the giant doll's head, seeing how, writhing between the twisted metal and wood, a yellow snake with pompous blue hats and suits, coughing loudly, also showing its enormous fangs. The fox grabbed him by the neck, squeezing him hard. "You have fled committing high treason to the Crown, King Richard claims you! Where is John?!"

"... Issss... Issss Prince John, you inssolent bandit..."

"Oh, do we have to kill another vampire? Where is he?" Darkwing asked in an almost monotone voice, approaching them. Both he and Oswald had large bloodstains on the plumage and fur. Behind them, the Sheriff's corpse was already beheaded and Friar Tuck was pouring drops of holy water over it. At the savage sight, the snake moved wildly, trying to bite the hunting fox, who dropped it to the ground, leaping back... Then Oswald threw a dagger that he had, hitting the snake's throat, leaving him nailed to the ground. After a few seconds of recovering from the shock, the rabbit felt a pat on his shoulder: Darkwing had a crooked smile. "Well thought out, kiddo. I _owe_ you one."

Oswald was going to say that the bird should start with apologizing with him, but he thought better of it. "...Let's wait _after_ the leech to be able to speak calmly, master," the rabbit replied; the mallard nodded.

**...**

It had been an abrupt change: from passing through vast greenish landscapes that gradually turned yellowish, rivers and lagoons shining under a haggard autumn sun... To an eternal gloom barely fought by gas lamps, narrow hallways where that they made some, like Simba, had to stoop a little to advance... And whose walls were _lined_ with _skulls_.

Zenox was scared to death, advancing alongside the lion and the bluebird wanting to run away with every step they took, and he saw the skulls along the corridors. Simba had explained that it was a tomb, the longest in the world, in fact: "I _can_ tell from the look on your face that you've _never_ been to Paris, _much less_ its catacombs, eh?"

"Never, sir. It's... _Terrifying_." the cabbit muttered. The lion chuckled.

"Nothing better than a place of death as headquarters for a brotherhood that works between death... And incidentally, it drives away the curious and thieves." Zenox could only nod, feeling that if he got distracted, he would end up getting lost in one of those ghoulish corridors.

When he had arrived at the so-called _'city of love'_, the orange cabbit had been dazzled by the number of people, the streets, the imposing churches and castles, and above all the food. However, Simba and Zazú had led the cabbit directly to an abandoned cemetery that was on the outskirts, entering a dark mausoleum that had a kind of entrance inside a tombstone, which showed some stone steps that were lost down, all to the amazement of Zenox. Only with a lamp carried by Zazu that fluttered above their heads, penetrating the cavern that seemed to descend more and more until it reached corridors full of stagnant water... and stone and concrete walls upholstered with skulls: The catacombs. They would continue walking through the winding corridors until they reached some strange old and unlit doors that, according to the hunting lion, was the entrance to his kingdom... The so-called 'Pride Rock': A kind of extremely spacious room, dominated by a wide raised atrium where there was a kind of ornate wooden chair where another lion was sitting, also imposing in appearance, but with a totally black mane and dark orange fur, who had given Zenox a cold look with his piercing green eyes that had left the cabbit almost paralyzed.

Simba stepped forward, still clutching one of Zenox's scrawny shoulders under his mighty paw. "Uncle Scar, I brought a _'tribute'_ that _may_ interest you..."

"You said that last week with some weasel hunters and although they were good at picking locks, it's _nothing_ we cannot do," the other lion, Scar, replied without even looking at him, his eyes fixed on the claws of his right paw that he was filing... Then he gave the cabbit a cold look, who made an effort not to shake... "So I _doubt_ that a long-eared _pipsqueak_ could do _anything_ for us, even replace Mondo-"

"But this one has an ability that makes up for his size," Simba replied dryly, squeezing Zenox's shoulder, then pushing him forward. "Show him, kid."

Zenox stepped forward, facing Scar and his 'throne', which, the cabbit noted in amazement, was made of bones and skulls that gleamed macabre in the dim candlelight. Trying to calm himself and concentrate, Zenox clasped his hands, frowning and imagining that something would come out, even a faint flare... The minutes passed and still nothing. The candles on the candelabra didn't even tremble a little; Scar drummed his claws on one of the forearms of the bone throne, with a bored expression: "If you came to apply as the guild jester, that's what we have Zazu for..."

Then coughs and little laughter began to ve heared, making Zenox more nervous... He felt his legs start to shake. Then a huge purple multi-armed chameleon snorted in annoyance, approaching Zenox, pretending to grab his arm, exclaiming:

"Enough of the games, you better get lost... _Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh_!" He jumped away, grabbing himself one ogt his arms. "What the fuck _did_ you do to me, you...?!"

"Gentlemen, look at his hands!" Mr. Zazu exclaimed pointing at Zenox, or rather, at his hands: He was giving off smoke as if they had been under boiling water. The poor cabbit couldn't even react... Simba had told him that they weren't going to lynch him as if he would be in the Church... But now he has just accidentally injured a member, already condemning him to...

"...You _don't_ seem so boring anymore, little pipsqueak."

Everyone fell silent at the purr of Scar, who was looking at the cabbit with one paw resting under his chin, outlining a sly smile. The purple chameleon gave the cabbit a death glare, but leaned back, blending into the background. Simba stepped forward again. "That's what I wanted to say, Uncle: Something _interesting_."

"I'll judge that, nephew." And with a gesture, he made Zenox come closer... Until he took one of the cabbit's wrists with an iron grip, making him almost jump, the smoke from his hands continued to come out weakly "Hmmm... Do you have any idea where you got these powers, kid...?"

"...My name is, Zenox, Zenox Fiamma, sir," the cabbit murmured in a small voice. Scar clicked his tongue.

"Until you have a rank, you won't be recognized, child. _Answer. My. Question_." The lion added with a dangerously silky tone. The cabbit gulped.

"...I never _knew_ where I got these powers from, sir. I was afraid to show them, because I believed that..."

"...That you'd be mistaken for a demon?" Scar asked in an almost musical tone. He paused for a long time, causing the other hunters around him to whisper uneasily. The chameleon from before, still hidden, growled:

"If it's a demon, it would be ironic for it to get precisely where we _kill_ them..."

"It's _not_ funny, Randall," Simba growled back. The chameleon gave a sinister laugh.

"Oh, it seems that the little prince already reserved the pipsqueak for himself as his acolyte, but what a pity. I wanted him to practice some of my _scares_~"

"Save your child's play for later, gentlemen," Scar interrupted irritably. Then he leaned towards the cabbit. "...Demon or not, we're _always_ in the race to surpass the other guilds, we'll have to take even the _unusual_... Who knows, we will even have other kinds of monsters in our ranks." Laughter was heard around, and even Zenox laughed more than nothing so as not to clash or upset his new _'boss'_

And so he had begun his life on _'Pride Rock'_, as a low-ranking recruit. They had assigned him a blanket to sleep on, a bowl to receive his three daily meals, and two changes of clothes that he would have to wash in the river outside the catacombs. According to what Zazu told him the first night: Although Zenox was a direct _'acolyte'_ of Simba, he would be obliged to attend or accompany any hunter of the guild in case his master wasn't available, even if he was just holding the saddlebags of the hunter on duty that was 'carry' him during the mission. Although the blue bird had assured him that he wouldn't be doing servant jobs such as cleaning or cooking _("We have a couple of cooks although nobody eats inside here; and well, as a 'royal butler', I usually demand that everyone should collaborate with not making the chambers too dirty"_ Zazu said with severity.), Zenox would have tasks of his rank, such as collecting wood, stones... Or leeches to have them ready for those who need them... As well as going to the homes of clients who have requested services from the guild and charging them... So, no monsters unless they were giant sewer rats. All while practicing how to handle pistols, knives, daggers... What could better channel that strange firepower.

Zenox had quickly realized that this power was, in effect, his 'guarantee' to survive in the guild and learn to be a hunter in his own right, even if he was reluctantly 'educated' by the other members, whom from the first day they kept giving him suspicious glances, although the cabbit couldn't blame them...

Instead, everything was better when he left the macabre corridors in the company of Simba, walking the most dangerous streets of Paris so that he would learn to guide himself and hide in the shadows, promising that soon they would go to explore terrain of all kinds, from forests to deserts to put him to his limit... Although the lion wasn't kidding when he said that he was really going to put him to his limit, leaving his muscles almost on the verge of tearing... It was in those moments where they could go to a bar for a beer (or the drink that Simba had made him become quite fond, which was rum with a lot of honey) and talk a little, during which Zenox had told him almost his entire story.

...And about that power, Zenox could barely generate a small ball of fire between his fingers, although to be fair to him, he could only _'practice'_ while riding the carriage, more dedicating himself to talking with his new teacher, learning about of his long and illustrious career, ("_I reached the limits of the world where the snow is eternal, fighting against ice colossi, as well as the depths of the green hell, learning with head hunters... You will learn a lot with me, and you'll perhaps go further than me."_ Simba said) as well as telling him about his life, how little he remembered of his childhood, and especially of his dear friends... Although in reality he spoke more of the young Van Helsing, of whom Simba had shown a strong interest the moment the orange cabbit had mentioned him:

"...We thought we lost him the moment he passed out, with all that blood all around..." Zenox muttered wrapping his hands around the beer mug, looking down. "I just wanted to scream and cry, just like Felix: He never done something like that, never...! And he still managed to kill him...!"

"...That means the 'talent' is really within blood and lineage. After all, the Van Helsing Clan were always exceptional in their missions... At least, until the great doctor Abraham Van Helsing, because after him... It was as if a flame has been lowered a little... _Like_ _yours_, huh?"

"Sir, I do my _best_!" Zenox exclaimed in distress. Simba gave him a disapproving look.

"Well, one must push oneself beyond what one can actually do. That is what not only hunters have done, but also artists, explorers and inventors: If they had stayed in their comfort zone, we would still be in a world of darkness." Simba replied, lifting the glass of the gas lamp on the table to light another cigar. "You'll have to work hard to outstrip your friend, if you say he started more than a year ago." "...He makes it sound like it's some kind of competition... And I can't imagine competing against Oswald." Zenox thought with a grimace, leaning down to take another sip. The lion leaned back. "Oh, Zazu, if those demanding orders from my uncle hadn't occurred, we could have passed through the little town before and had two acolytes! ...I imagine the guild that took Oswald must be happy to have such a rare piece in their ranks."

Zenox raised his head, looking thoughtful. "...Oh, I couldn't say that, sir. Mr. Darkwing never told us what guild... S-SIR!" The orange cabbit screamed, jumping up from the table, knocking over the beer mug: His mentor was coughing violently, leaning his massive body forward, as if someone invisible would have beaten him. Beside him, Zazu patted him. "What happened?! Are you okay?! _There's_ a...?!"

"_No_. Just... _Sit down, _Zenox." Simba ordered in a hoarse but penetrating voice, which the cabbit did immediately, with a scared face... Which increased when he saw the hunter lion raise his head and give him a strange look. "...And _don't _say _that_ name. _Not her_e."

Zenox automatically looked around him, just as his mentor had urged him to do whenever they were indoors. Unlike others they had visited before inside the Frankish kingdom, this bar was full of hunters, hunters from Simba's guild. Zenox, almost breathing heavily, looked at his master, who had a frowning and abstracted expression. "Sir... i-if I can as..."

"...So _he_ was in Sighiosara. The bastard stopped hiding," Simba murmured to Zazu as he picked up the cigar from the ground again, smoking a long drag, then he looked at Zenox. "Oh yeah, I _know_ him, little one. Many of us know him. He was a hero; we have to admit it... And, a few _years_ ago, I'd _even_ have been envious that your little friend Oswald was his acolyte... But now..." He closed his eyes. "What a way to _kill_ a career from the start."

"But... why do you say that, sir?" Zenox said in a whisper, wondering if it was a good idea to know more. The lion glanced at him before grimacing bitterly: There was contempt in his eyes... and _pity_.

"...We fight against the evil of the world, but the world itself have many things that can bring about the _downfall_ of a man: Money, power, gambling... _Or_ women. You see, Darkwing, a hunter of very high rank, with prestige and renown... Well, he _lost_ his damn head." Simba paused. Zenox's eyes were wide open, hardly breathing. "...He _stupidly_ lost his head for a _fucking_ girl and that caused his fall, committing an _unforgivable_ crime against ours... Against **_my_** brotherhood, in fact. _Just like_ the story of King Herodes and the whore Salome against John the Baptiste **(6)**" Simba's fierce eyes were shining... "Mundane ones will despise us at the same time as looking for us, they'll call us scavengers, they'll tell us whatever they want... But we _never_ stab each other. We are a big brotherhood."

Before the whole discourse, Zenox was silent, feeling his heart beat wildly... "What... _what_ did he _do_?"

Simba's expression was brutal... "He killed one of my best men _treacherously_ and for _no reason_. And according to him, it was a duel... No, Zenox. It was a fucking cold-blooded execution."

Zenox couldn't ask any more, feeling his hands tremble under the table... but shaking for what reason? Anger? Because of fear? That must be... _Fear_. Fear for Oswald: He had received a few letters from the black rabbit, in which he had told him some things about his master... And when saying 'some', they were really very few, only highlighting the eccentric at the time of expressing himself, how demanding he was when training ... And how cruel he was when he killed monsters or road robbers, or when he executed a vampire child in front of Oswald's eyes... I mean, Zenox knew that the way of the hunter, that is, the path that he was now on, paved with blood... But...

"_Partly_ I'm sorry you knew it this way, but partly this would be a good... Encouragement for you, don't you think, Zenox?" The cabbit raised his head, surprised. "...What _better_ encouragement to overcome your little friend in the career of better hunter than seeing the kind of _monster_ that is his mentor..."

"..._We all_ have something of a monster, something of darkness in each one of us, and it depends on us to still _stay_ in the light" Zenox muttered in a quiet voice. Simba whistled appreciatively.

"Impressive, little one. Where did you learn it?"

Despite the painful whirlwind of emotions inside him, Zenox managed a weak smile, clasping his hands as if to pray, "...A very dear person who had picked us up from the street, saving us from the darkness... She was our small light." And frowning a little in concentration, his hands shook and between his fingertips, a medium-sized fireball emerged, sizzling loudly. Simba smiled and patted his acolyte's shoulder.

"It's like it's an _unpolished_ gem, sir," Zazu commented almost enthusiastically. The hunter lion nodded, watching the fireball dance between the cabbit's fingers as if it had a life of its own.

**...**

...Felix was almost a ball on the ground, unable to process what had happened. Everything was ruined in a matter of seconds. And he witnessed in the front row as his 'driver' on his 'train of fortune' derailed to a horrible end. The funny thing is that the chain of events that had come to that hadn't been exactly good either: He had finally gotten used to the heat of Turkey, as well as enjoying its landscape and its food, always walking hand in hand with his 'benefactor' Budd Fludd, who held him tight when teaching him everything useful about business... And that was, in addition to negotiating services and haggling possible prices, insisting on reaching a business agreement, _making_ up details and _hiding_ possible failures.

...And hiding possible flaws was _essential_ if the _potential_ buyer to close a deal was Flintheart Glomgold.

Felix had been introduced as the jocular and savvy little assistant to the merchant dog to the plump elderly duck and strange garb of hat and green plaid skirt, who had arrived in the country a few days later, descending from a ostentatious carriage, giving them an indulgent look. extending his right hand, where a diamond ring shone: The black cat realized that the duck had an amazing vitality despite his age, giving him an energetic squeeze.

"I'm certainly looking for profit opportunities... Profits that will make me outgrow old Scroogie. Yer master says it has an interesting source of oil."

"Of course it is, my dear sir. There is nothing like that that I intend to show you!" Mr. Fludd exclaimed before Felix could open his mouth, giving the tycoon duck a squeeze. "If you want you can accompany us to our 'Headquarters', it would be an honor."

_"Headquarters? More like a camp,"_ Felix thought with a grimace as he imagined the caravan of tents that had been set up next to the well where they had established themselves. Well that, according to the merchant dog, would be a step forward to gain a large slice of the market.

When they had reached Turkey, Budd Fludd had led Felix to a mountain from which a strange wisp of steam was rising; Was it a volcano? He had read about them and was even excited to see one, but the dog stopped him, taking him to a corner of the top, showing him what it was: A small crater... full of crystal clear water, which was the source of that strange white steam. Felix was amazed, he had read a little about hot springs, which even had healing properties... and he was even willing to try one when comes the opportunity, _despite_ his natural aversion to water... But then he saw Budd Fludd holding a little mouse in his hands.

"_Shall_ we take a dip, Felix?" And without another word he had thrown it into the small lake, falling into the water in a funny splash... And after a few seconds, the little mouse emerged from the water with his hair down, his flesh raw, and his eyes bulging, letting out terrible screams as he tried by all means of going up or looking for a point to escape from the water... Until it sank again, dissolving to an inert mass of raw and bloody flesh. Felix ended up vomiting: "What... What... the hell _happened_?! But _what_ happened...?!"

"The vitriol liquor **(5)** is vital if we want to get into the oil carriage... Yes, it's dangerous, as you have just seen, but it is a powerful source... A source that will give us a lot of money."

"A lot of money to be able to melt a living being?" Felix replied, still squatting on the ground and coughing, still shaking in horror. "Who would want something like that?"

Mr. Fludd gave him a mocking look. "Stop whining, Felix. This is not only to _'disappear'_ certain annoyances, it is also a source of power for any country that wants to get out of the backwater quagmire of fucking whale blubber **(6)**."

Felix didn't understand why anyone would want to trade in water that could literally melt flesh and tissue horribly in a matter of seconds, but it was obvious that not only Budd Fludd, but also Flintheart Glomgold himself were raving about 'acid', as he had come to understand, which was not much, and he was thinking to send a letter to Miss Ortensia so that she could give a more amiable explanation to the pile of words that both the dog and the duck had given him in a rush... _When_ a scream of horror had brought him out of his thoughts: the moment that he appeared, the WHOLE episode should be about him."

His benefactor had led them to the camp, talking non-stop about what benefits Glomgold would have from allying with him, that he was perfect to do business with anyone and that his 'protégé' Felix was perfect to convince with all his blarney. Felix had introduced himself and talked more about what he had managed to sell, from concentrated lemon juice as a disinfectant to graveyard powder as a weapon against vampires. The scotch duck had given him an appraising look, as if the cat was a piece of meat... But when they reached the '_kettle of water'_ and Mr. Fludd began to enthusiastically show him the power of acid when he took another mouse out of his coat to throw it inside... The mouse had managed to get out of his grip and bite his hand with force, making him cry out and with it, step on a part of the ground that gave way. In a matter of seconds, Budd Fludd fell in front of Felix and Glomgold, who could do nothing, landing headfirst into the crater, splashing water... Or rather acid everywhere, to the point that Glomgold had thrown himself and Felix at the ground so that it wouldn't fall on them, and the kid was shouting:

"SIR! SIR! NOOO!"

**_"HE... LP... ME...! I... MEL... TI... G! "_** The dog bellowed between hideous dripping sounds, his clothes disintegrating in seconds, just as his brown fur began to smoke... and to melt into a gigantic red bloody stump, until finally sinking. Glomgold was holding Felix who was pretending to jump into the boiler, screaming hysterically:

"SIR, I SAID THAT THAT WAS UNSTABLE! SOMEONE SAVE HIM, PLEASE, PLEASE...!

"Lad... Let him go. There's nothing to be done now," Glomgold rasped, rising to jump in a frenzy and somewhat comical, believing that a few drops of acid had fallen on him. Felix stayed on the ground, covering his face, still seeing the horrible image of his master dissolve on his retina... Then he felt a hand pat him on the shoulder, snorting. "Well, this was... **Tragic**, but ye have to move on. Lads, we will take this source of vitriol, we will go to the capital to negotiate!"

And Felix felt the Scotch duck move away from him. A new feeling overcame the horror: panic. Now what was going to happen to him? He was _practically_ stranded in foreign land _thousands_ of miles from his hometown! The once-confident and reckless black cat was terrified of being alone, penniless, and without his friends to communicate, so his survival instinct _kicked_ _in_, making him finally to leap up and yell:

_"WAIT!"_

Flintheart Glomgold turned impatiently, as he was talking to one of the assistants who had come with him, a blue-robed oriental man that was carrying a paper clip, who was looking at him too, but with clear disdain. He supported his cane with force "Yes? What do you want, lad?"

"I'd like to serve you, sir. I have nowhere to go, I can be of _much_ use to you." Felix declared with all the poise he _could_ get from his shattered nerves... The assistant gave a nasty laugh in his face.

"And _just_ yesterday we received report that we lost about ten children in the coal workhouse in Alsace, and this starving little man comes to us like out of the blue..."

"No, I'd like to work in business, _not_ in a workhouse," Felix interrupted crudely, trying not to show any hesitation. The duck raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. The assistant grimaced mockingly.

"_You?_ What could you do, brat, but carry the mail or make tea? Mr. Glomgold is too important to waste time with an _insignificant_ being like you and..."

"I _can_ give you information about the business Mr. Fludd was planning to do after making deals with you! Like, for example, Patch of Heaven, Dixon Ranch and...!"

"Enough already! Mr. Glomgold, this poor devil is only talking nonsense, he must be disturbed for what happened... Good grief, a filthy child talking like that to..."

"Hush, Mr. Chi-Fu," Glomgold croaked suddenly. In his eyes hidden behind the round glasses there was a gleam of curiosity that the cat knew well. "Ye, lad, do ye have that information?"

Mr. Chi-Fu began to sputter furiously as Felix, after asking him for a moment, rushed to the tent where he had been sleeping with Mr. Fludd since his arrival in the country. "Mr. Glomgold, this is a waste of time and money! Are you really going to listen to...?"

Felix couldn't hear anymore, his mind was going a thousand an hour as he searched each and every one of the documents and dietary books **(6)** that Budd Fludd had made him read so that he would understand where they were going to go... The merchant dog had jotted down a dozen company names, postal addresses, and even details of their sizes in proportion to their possibility to do some good business. In the end, he had everything kept in an iron box closed with a key, and although the dog had never removed it from his neck and therefore, the key had 'disappeared' along with his owner, Felix had managed to pick the lock with a metal hairpin that he had kept in his saddlebags... Blessed be the nostalgic whim of not having gotten rid of the instrument that he had used in other times to enter inside in houses of others to steal the first piece of food they found. Of course, the seconds it took to open the box took a fucking eternity, to the point that his racing heart almost prevented him from breathing well; They might leave if this took too long, they might not find this possible life-saving float for him valuable enough...

...But fortunately, Mr. Chi-Fu continued ranting at the moment that Felix, on the verge of collapsing with anxiety, held out a black accounting book to the bird's feathered hands, almost panting. Glomgold just took it and started flipping through it... After a few seconds, he grunted:

"...I had thought ye were lying when ye said about 'Patch of Heaven' and even better, 'Dixon Ranch', since those properties are the ones I've been fighting to get for a long time, but no matter how hard I try, I've not been able to buy it... But this has even business notes with the owners... Well, well, well." The duck fixed his sharp eyes on Felix, evaluating him severely, the cat returned his gaze firmly; "...Not only did I not imagine that a simple merchant had this little gold mine in his hands... but also that his 'protégé' hadn't had any problem to hand it over to me for a profit and to save his ass... That, laddy, would make ye a traitor, _ye know_?"

Felix gulped. Yes, _of_ _course_ he knew. He knew that this was too damn low against his benefactor, just when he had sponsored him, he had taught him so many things that he didn't know, not only about merchants, business and money, but about the people as a whole and how feelings were always present in the eternal game of power... Just when right now his benefactor was nothing more than bloody particles and broken bones under that infernal cauldron, but..."In order to ensure a _possible_ future for me, under these circumstances, then I'd _give_ anything... And _get_ anything you can order me. Mr. Fludd used to order me to _convince_ others and... _deceive_ other merchants and potential prospects in the town where I lived before." Felix finally replied, with a concerned tone. Chi-Fu snorted.

"_Nice_ story, brat. But if you intend to get something out of this..."

"I like ye, lad; I like yer poise... What's yer name, again?"

"Felix, Mr. Glomgold. Felix Sullivan." The duck nodded, his eyes looking at the cat, now in a different kind of light. Felix, _although_ he seemed undaunted, internally he was _desperately_ pleading with whatever was in the heavens... As well with the Providence. Finally, the old Scotsman duck closed the black account book with a crafty smile.

"...It seems that I not _only_ have an unexpected source of business, but also a possible _'weasel'_ who can not only guide me, but also _get_ into it..."

Felix blinked in confusion, but at the same time immensely relieved. _"Weasel?"_

Mr. Chi-Fu started ranting again. Felix closed deals with an energetic handshake with Flintheart Glomgold, determined to do _everything_ possible to be in this _game of power_ and, perhaps, _win_ it.

What the black cat _didn't_ know until that moment, was how this new adventure that he would now undertake would become _intertwined_ with the lives of his two best friends...

...Or _rather_, their _two mentors._

**TBC **

**Author's Note: **

**(1) **Gasoline or diesel is a hydrocarbon that is obtained through a petroleum distillation process. The first distillation of oil is attributed to the Arab sage of Persian origin Al-Razi, inventor of the alembic, in the 9th century. It wasn't until the 18th century when refining methods began to be perfected, obtaining derivatives for greasing machines.

**(2) Keep**: English name given to the tower in the middle of a castle. This has the peculiarity that it is surrounded by an open green field.

**(3) **Automata (from the Greek _automatos_: 'mechanical device that works by itself') are the forerunners of modern robots. The first appearances date back to the 12th and 13th centuries. Automatons reached their peak in the 18th century, when, thanks to the development of clockwork mechanisms. Between famous automata designers were Leonardo DaVinci, Jacques de Vaucanson or Pierre Jaquet-Droz.

**(4)** Jack-o'-lantern (Jack's Lantern) is the name given to traditional Halloween hand-carved pumpkins. It takes its name both from the natural phenomenon will wisps and from an Irish folk tale of a man named Jack who by deceiving the devil was condemned to eternally roam the earth carrying an infernal fire inside a hollow turnip**.**

**(5) **Simba refers to the New Testament passages of _Matthew 14: 1-12, Mark 6: 14-29,_ and Luke 9: 7-9, in which to win the favors of the Philistine princess Salome, King Herod commanded to behead John the Baptist, whom he had previously imprisoned at that time.

**(6) **Sulfuric acid (also called vitriol or vitriol liquor) is an extremely corrosive chemical compound. It's the most compound chemical in the world, used both in the oil industry and in agrochemicals. It can be found in nature when a sulfur deposit comes into contact with water.

**(7) Dietary**: Book in which the daily income and expenses of a house or small business are recorded.


End file.
